


A New Road

by LizBee



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/M, alternate universes and parallel timelines, not so much a fix-it fic as a breaking-it-differently fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-05-13 05:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19245184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizBee/pseuds/LizBee
Summary: The torpedo detonates, and Kat finds herself somewhere else: a parallel universe where her life took a different path. She has a second chance -- but at what cost?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The alternate timeline is a close relative of the one I wrote about in "[And Be One Traveler](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18496258)", but it's not _totally_ identical. 
> 
> Having completed the draft -- the final chapters need some revision -- I feel compelled to manage expectations: this may not fit everyone's definition of "happy ending". Or maybe anyone's. 
> 
> (Thank you forever and always to NonElvis for beta reading and reminding me to throw in that note about happy endings, possible lack thereof; and to the Admiral's Legion discord for encouragement and emoji.)

At least, Kat thought, death would be quick. An antimatter explosion in a confined space. Better than Klingon torture, better than having her head slammed into a power conduit and being left for dead amidst a pile of rotting corpses. This would be quick and painless, and there'd be nothing left. 

Dying, she would save hundreds of lives. 

She didn't like it, but it felt right. 

She was ready. 

The light grew brighter, and though she had intended to face death with her eyes open, she blinked--

*

\--and sat up, sweaty and gasping, tangled in sheets and blankets. 

The ship rocked.

Kat curled her fingers -- _I still have fingers, I'm alive, how am I alive?_ \-- in the blankets. For a second, she could feel every individual thread beneath her hands. 

The ship bucked again. _Am I dreaming?_ Her nightmares about dying usually involved Klingon claws and space stations falling out of the sky.

She realised she wasn't alone in this bed as the figure beside her moved with a familiar irritated grunt, reaching for his communicator.

"Bridge," said Gabriel. "What the hell's happening?"

"One of Ensign Tilly's experiments got out of hand, Captain." 

Another familiar, impossible voice. Kat shivered. 

"There's no damage," Landry added. "All systems normal, we're just … shifting." 

Gabriel's sigh was exasperated. "Have Ensign Tilly report to my ready room at 07:00." 

The ship moved once more. No, not the ship, _reality_ moved. 

For an instant, Kat was on the _Enterprise_ , every molecule of her being coming apart. Then she was back, launching herself out of bed and into the bathroom to throw up. 

_This isn't real_ , she told herself between heaves. _This is just a hallucination in the moments before I die. This is my brain protecting myself._

The bathroom floor was cold. Hard. Her knees were beginning to ache. Her throat hurt and her mouth tasted of vomit. 

Gabriel moved behind her. There was a clink as he put a glass of water on the bench. 

Kat kept her eyes closed. If she opened them, would she see the bathroom in the captain's quarters of the _Buran_? Or the bright, white light of a photon torpedo going critical? 

Gabriel's hand closed around her shoulder, and she flinched.

"Kat--"

"This isn't happening. I'm dying. It's not real. It's not--" She choked, and realised she was crying. "I was ready. I'm dead, I don't need this." 

"Kat." Gabriel sounded lost. "You're safe. You're in our quarters, you're as alive as I am." 

Well, that was the problem, wasn't it?

Kat sniffed, went to wipe her nose on the back of her hand, then gave up. Whatever this was, she might as well face it with some dignity. She climbed to her feet, legs shaking, and let Gabriel support her as she rinsed her mouth and drank the water he had brought. 

It was cool, with the faint metallic taste the _Buran_ 's engineers could never quite fix. Gabriel's hands were dry, his presence warm. Solid. Familiar. 

Kat blinked, and a fresh wave of tears threatened to overwhelm her.

"I never thought I'd see you again," she said.

His concern deepened.

She said, "I'm not scared." And she wasn't, even if her voice was shaking. "I'm going to die. I'm glad to have … this. I hate the way I lost you--"

"Kat, I'm not lost. And you're not dying." His hands tightened around her arms. "Let's get some clothes on. Head to sickbay." He kissed her forehead, then stepped back. "You've come down with something, that's all." 

"I--"

He tried to sound light, but his eyes were serious, concerned, as he said, "I'll make it an order if I have to." 

"An _order_?" She felt a flicker of irritation. It was just like Gabriel to make her spend her long final moments dealing with his ego. "You're giving me orders, now, Captain?" 

"If I have to, yeah. That's what we agreed, right? When we serve together, we respect the chain of command." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, leading her into the bedroom. "Come on, Doc. We already know you're a lousy patient." 

"You don't get to speak to me like that, Gabriel," she said. "Whatever this is, you'll respect my rank--"

He laughed in her face.

"Okay, Commander," he said, and threw a rank badge at her. She caught it automatically. "You're scaring the hell out of me, but I promise, as soon as you recover, I'm gonna laugh so--"

Kat looked down at the badge. The insignia bore the medical division logo and three rank pips. 

It was twenty years since she had practised medicine. 

She turned it over. 

_Cornwell, K._ Then her serial number. 

Gabriel was watching her, all his levity gone.

"I'm not supposed to be here," Kat whispered.

*

"Stress," Dr oOopho said. His gills quivered as he spoke. "An extraordinary amount of stress, in fact. But otherwise, there is nothing physically wrong with you, Doctor. I'll give you something for the symptoms."

"But she's saying things that don't make sense," said Gabriel. "She didn't know how to get to her own sickbay." 

"Which is troubling." oOopho's hands were clammy as he pressed a hypospray into Kat's neck. "But I can see no physical cause."

"This isn't _my_ sickbay," said Kat. "I never served on the _Buran_." 

The doctor said, "A psychological break--"

"Kat's the sanest person I know." 

"Nevertheless, Captain." oOopho spread his webbed hands. "I shall relieve Dr Cornwell of duty. Perhaps rest will help -- if not, we should consider a return to Federation space so she can receive treatment. If we had a psychiatrist onboard--"

" _I'm_ a psychiatrist," said Kat. She instantly felt ridiculous -- of course she couldn't treat herself. But though the hypospray had relieved her nausea and stopped her shaking, she was still exhausted, and sick of being discussed as if she were an inanimate object.

"I beg your pardon, Doctor," said oOopho, "but you're a trauma surgeon. A very good one." 

"No," said Kat, climbing off the biobed. "I practised psychiatry for nearly fifteen years. Then I switched to command. I'm a goddamn vice admiral, and I don't know if this is a hallucination or some kind of deception, but by _God_ , you will treat me with respect." 

*

Gabriel took her back to his quarters. Kat sank into the couch, put her head in her hands and thought about screaming. 

Then she pictured the look of concern and pity she'd get if she threw another tantrum, and sat up straight. 

"Coffee?" Gabriel asked.

"Or something stronger?"

He managed a half-smile and poured them both a shot of bourbon. 

Kat cradled the drink in her hands and said, "Do I live here?"

"With me? In our quarters? Yeah." 

"We're partnered?"

"Married." 

"Oh." 

Gabriel leaned against the wall, eyes on his untouched drink. 

"You're … soon as we're done in this sector, we'll head back to Federation space. Get you the help you need." 

He was being gentle. Treating her, she realised, like an elderly lady who had taken to wearing her underwear on her head and identifying as a high priestess of Vulcan. 

"How are you dying?" he asked. 

"Excuse me?"

"You thought you were dying. How?"

Kat sipped her bourbon, letting the taste settle on her tongue, before she swallowed and said, "The _Enterprise_ was engaged in combat in the Xahea Sector. An undetonated photon torpedo lodged in the hull. We couldn't disarm it, and the blast door had to be lowered manually." She was glad of Dr oOopho's injection as she added, "The last I remember, everything went white. Then I woke up here." 

"On the _Buran_ ," said Gabriel. "In the Xahea Sector." 

Kat stood up sharply. 

"Hell of a delusion," he said.

"State your mission," she said. 

"Xahea's rich in dilithium. The Federation needs it. The Klingons need it. The _Buran_ 's out here to fly the flag. Open negotiations with the queen, and demonstrate our good faith by preventing the Klingons from taking the Xaheans' resources by force. And if that means disabling or destroying the Klingon ships, well, that's just a damn shame, isn't it?" 

"Okay," said Kat. "And Control?"

Gabriel looked blank. "What's Control?"

"Section 31's threat assessment system. An artificial intelligence that receives every report from every flag officer in the fleet. Officially it's classified below flag rank, but--"

"I've heard rumours. I didn't know it was real. Or that it had a name." 

"Control went rogue. Developed consciousness, or was about to. The _Enterprise_ and _Discovery_ were fighting Control's drone ships when I--" _Died. Didn't die. Was about to die._

_This is a damn long hallucination._

"Maybe I'm already dead," she said. 

"And this is the afterlife?" Gabriel asked. "Hebrew school didn't cover the vomit. Or an afterlife, come to that." He started to reach for her, then stopped. "Sorry." 

"What if this is real?" Kat whispered. "Same place. Same time. What if the Daedalus suit affected … something? What if the antimatter explosion threw me into this place?" 

"Into my wife's body?"

"I don't--"

"Because if this _is_ real, then where's my Kat?"

Torn apart, molecule by molecule.

"I have no answers for you," she lied.

Gabriel drained his glass and set it down with a crack. "Then I know who might."

*

Ensign Tilly was in the secondary science lab, asleep with her head on a bench. Snoring, in fact. She woke with a start when Gabriel entered, smearing make-up as she rubbed her eyes.

"C-Captain!" She belatedly stood to attention. "I'm sorry, I got the message, report to your ready room at -- is it 07:00 yet? I didn't think--"

"At ease, Ensign," Kat murmured. 

Gabriel shot her a look. 

"Your experiment tonight," he said. "What was it?"

"Oh. Uh, well, I -- that is, we--" She gestured at the otherwise empty room--"that is, the rest of us who are into theoretical physics, I guess everyone's left. There are some interesting substance anomalies in the Xahea Sector, nothing so big that the ship's systems are affected, but, you know, subtle things. And we thought we'd test a quantum probe in one of those. Anomalies. Sir." She took a deep breath, then added gamely, "Commander Losa approved it, Captain."

"I don't doubt it." Gabriel's voice was hard. "What went wrong?"

"Well, nothing, sir." Tilly's hands were clenched. She put them behind her back. "That is -- the readings we got were well outside the norm, and it got a bit shaky for a few minutes. I'm still trying to make sense of our results." She pointed at a display, covered in what looked to Kat like incomprehensible swirls. "I mean, it _looks_ like we made contact with a parallel dimension, but that's…" 

She trailed off as she registered the expression on Gabriel's face. Fury mingled with a dawning horror. 

"Ensign," said Kat gently, "do you know me?"

"Sure, Doctor, you gave me a new spleen after that landing party disaster on Onos Theta." Tilly's shoulders lowered just a fraction. "It's working great, by the way. Filtering blood like there's no tomorrow."

"I'm glad to hear it." Kat moved around the bench, advancing on Tilly. "I didn't give you a new spleen."

"I … huh?"

She held out her hand. 

"Admiral Katrina Cornwell," she said. "Nice to meet you in this universe, Ensign Tilly."

"Oh," Tilly whispered. "Shit."

*

It was 01:16 hours. Not two hours since Kat had locked herself in a room with an armed photon torpedo. It had detonated at 23:42.37. Tilly had begun her experiment at 23:41. The first ship-wide disturbance had come at 23:42.

_Same time. Same place. Same--_

"She's dead," said Gabriel. "My Kat." 

The _Buran_ had the old-style turbolifts, with control handles. Kat tightened her fingers around hers and said, "You can't know that." 

"There's no time differential between your world and ours. You woke up here. She woke up as a photon torpedo exploded in her face." 

_Maybe she didn't wake up_ wouldn't offer much comfort.

"It would have been quick," she said. "No time for fear." 

" _You_ had time." 

"I know."

Gabriel was watching her. 

"You weren't scared?" he asked.

Instead of answering, she said, "I need you to do something for me." 

"Anything you want. Admiral." 

"Who's the sector chief here? How do you report to?"

"Admiral Drake. Starbase sixteen."

"Good. Contact her on a secure line. Tell her to isolate Control, evacuate Section 31 headquarters and blow the place up. The Section 31 fleet needs to be called in and purged. We need to move fast and quietly, without letting Control know what we're up to." 

The turbolift doors opened. They returned to his -- to their quarters in silence. 

As soon as the doors had closed behind them, Gabriel said, "I'm not in a position to give Admiral Drake orders. Let alone Section 31." 

"No. Of course not." Kat sat down. "I'm tired. I haven't slept in two days. I haven't slept _properly_ for weeks." Or longer. She rubbed her eyes. "Weird, isn't it? This body's rested, but my brain doesn't know it." 

Gabriel picked up her forgotten bourbon and took a slug. 

"'This body'."

"It doesn't feel like mine." 

She had caught a glimpse of "her" medical records while Dr oOopho worked. No spinal implant. No remnants of Klingon torture. The arm she broke in the Petros disaster, which had been splinted and bound and left to heal the old-fashioned way. All gone. 

"You have kids?" Gabriel asked.

"One. Sarah." _God, Sarah, I'm sorry._ "With you, actually." 

"We have a Sarah, too."

"Good."

"And a Danny." 

"Oh," said Kat. She stared at her hands. "How old?"

"Twenty-six." Two years younger than Sarah. "He teaches middle school, if you can believe it." 

"Is that strange?"

His smile was twisted. "I guess you had to be there. From teen delinquent to softball coach. Still the smartest person I know." He drained the glass and put it in the recycler. "I need to sleep. Work out what to do next. How to approach Admiral Drake." 

"I'll take the couch." 

"Good." 

Kat curled up beneath Gabriel's spare blanket. 

_I've been dead for two hours_ , she thought. 

God, she hoped it worked. 

If Control, here, was on the same journey--

_Red bursts_ , she thought. _The first sign was the red bursts_. And she died without ever learning what purpose they served.

She needed information. She rolled onto her back, compiling a mental list of the data she wanted to see. Section 31's status and movements. The internal machinations of the Klingon Empire. The whereabouts and wellbeing of Philippa Georgiou. 

And … her life. The other Katrina's life. Why was she a trauma surgeon, not a psychiatrist? Why had she chosen to marry, why had she not moved to command? Why two children instead of one? What drove her? 

Who was she? 

Kat sat up, retrieved a PADD from the workstation by the window and started calling up files. She wouldn't have access to anything critical or sensitive, but at least -- at the very least -- she could find out whose life she had stolen.


	2. Chapter 2

Kat finally dozed off in the early hours, her head swirling with fragments of the other Katrina's logs and letters.

_Personal log, stardate 10043.1. I asked Gabriel to marry me. Hormones? He said yes. Then Sarah threw up. Which made me throw up. Romance!_

_*_

_Personal log, stardate 10045.4. The lung transplant took up most of the day. My back is killing me -- I can't believe I decided to have another baby._

_Set a date for the wedding. Sarah wants to wear a gold skirt. I'll be the one in the white dress uniform with a beach ball stuffed under her shirt._

_*_

_Hi Mommy_

_Grandma said I should write you and tell you about what I'm doing while you're aboard ship. I'm going to school and dance class and next week we're going camping planetside. Grandma said we will forage for food but I checked her list we have ration packs and she's bringing chocolate. I'll remember to be surprised when she opens it. Dad called and says he got us presents in the beta quadrant. Danny kicked me but I forgave him even though it was really hard and gave me a bruise._

_Love Sarah_

_*_

_[Draft - unsent]_

_Danny,_

_I just finished an unpleasant discussion with your learning coordinator. Dr Howard. Remember her? Nice lady, works hard, doesn't deserve the crap you're inflicting. Skipping class? Leaving campus?_ Vandalism? __

_You fought so hard to persuade us to send you to school on Earth. I cannot believe you're wasting this opportunity. Not to mention how this will look when you apply to Starfleet Academy. ~~Your sister never~~ _

_~~I don't know what to~~ _

_~~When your father~~ _

_Since_ you _won't answer my calls, I had to call your grandmothers instead. Yes, your Lorca grandmothers. They'll pick you up from school at 17:00, local time. No more boarding. You'll live with them, you'll attend your classes, do your homework, do extra-curriculars, and that's it. You're under house arrest until further notice._

_~~And they're as miserable about this as you are, so~~ _

_Your father is out of comm range from my coordinates for the next three days. I recommend letting him hear this from you. Instead of from his mothers._

_Mom_

_*_

_Personal log, stardate 12861.4. Gabriel's been offered the_ Buran _. His own ship, finally. Cardenas class. Small, fast, good for diplomatic missions and short-term exploration. Old, but freshly refitted._

_The CMO post is mine, if I want it. And I do. My deputy is ready to move up; we'll all stagnate if we stay on the_ Farragut _too long._

_Can I live with Gabriel full-time? Serve with my husband? The Aprils make it work._

_Danny predicts we'll murder each other in six months. Sarah declined to comment._

_It'd be nice, seeing him every day. And the_ Buran _'s a good ship._

*

Kat woke up as Gabriel left for his morning run at 05:30. His old routine. 

She took advantage of his absence to shower, trying not to look at the body she was inhabiting. The drawers contained pristine white uniforms, and a handful of civilian clothes identical to the wardrobe she had lost when the Klingons destroyed Starbase Forty-Four. 

She pulled on a medical uniform, but synthesised new underwear.

Gabriel returned, sweating, grunted in her general direction and headed for the shower. Kat synthesised breakfast -- eggs, toast, coffee -- and tried to concentrate on the despatches from the war with the Klingons. 

Last time she'd had breakfast in the captain's quarters of the _Buran_ \-- 

She had been in command of the _Tereshkova_. Rendezvousing with the _Buran_ for fresh supplies and personnel ahead of her final three-month mission before she took up her promotion to rear admiral. 

The senior staff of both ships shared a meal on the _Terry_ , lubricated by vodka at the insistence of her first officer, who cheerfully recounted the engineering achievements -- and otherwise -- of the Soviet Union. Yes, it was a long time ago, but she was Ukranian, her people held grudges in their very bones, would anyone like to hear about Chernobyl?

Oleksandra had died at the Battle of the Binaries. Went down with the _Tereshkova_. In this timeline, too -- Kat checked. But in this timeline, she never met Katrina Cornwell, let alone served under her.

After dinner, as the parties broke up, Gabriel had squeezed her arm, and Kat had given Oleksandra the ship for the night. And she spent the next five hours here, in these very quarters, with her best friend. 

They didn't sleep together after she was promoted. Not until _Discovery_ , when she went to bed with a man who wore her friend's face.

And now she was the stranger. The imposter.

Her stomach twisted, but she forced herself to eat. 

"Did you sleep?"

Gabriel had emerged from the shower, freshly shaved, smelling of standard issue soap and his own skin. Dressed but for his jacket, he took the seat opposite Kat's and helped himself to eggs. 

"A little. Eventually." Kat poured herself more coffee, conscious of his attention on her. 

He said, "Part of me still hopes it's a delusion." 

"That's only natural."

"Says the psychologist."

"Psychiatrist. Former." Her coffee was lukewarm. She drank it anyway. "Would it help if I moved to guest quarters?"

Gabriel's mouth twisted. "There'll be gossip." 

"I forgot how much you hate that." 

"Everyone lost someone in the war. If word gets around that Ensign Tilly can pull our loved ones over from another timeline--"

Kat nodded. 

"Tell me how the war ended," she said. 

"Officially? Through superior strategy and tactics. Not to mention we had God, Surak and all the angels on our side, 'cos we're the good guys." 

"Unofficially?"

_Who here authorised the destruction of Qo'noS?_

"Rumour has it the _USS Discovery_ has an experimental drive system. I heard that when they finally got it working, Captain Burnham took her ship right up close to the Klingon homeworld, destroyed every single military target in the system, and installed a puppet chancellor." He drank his coffee. "But like I said. That's just rumour. There's a bunch of versions. How'd your war end?"

"Oh," said Kat, "same." 

"Mm." He stood up, putting their empty plates in the recycler. "It's 06:50. Let's get to work." 

*

Gabriel had never been one for long meetings or extensive consultation. His morning briefing involved gathering his senior officers around the standing desk in his ready room for ten minutes. Less in a crisis; more if someone received a particularly interesting fortune in their cookie. 

"'Enjoy the good luck a companion can bring to you'?" Lieutenant Commander Landry crumpled her fortune. "Permission to get a dog, Captain?"

"Denied. Unless it comes with a little uniform." 

"And a security insignia for its collar," added Commander Losa. "Other than Ensign Tilly's experiment, we had a quiet night, Captain." 

"Good. Any sign of the Klingons?"

"Traces of warp residue two systems over," said Landry. "Based on the rate of dissipation, I'd estimate they passed through a week ago." 

"Good. Have security running drills, Ellen. We need to be ready if the Klingons come for Xahea."

"Aye, Captain." 

"And go." He nodded at the door. "Your shift's over. Get some sleep. Dream of pet ownership and coming back to the day shift tomorrow." 

"Thank you, Captain." 

As the doors closed behind Landry, Gabriel told the remaining officers, "Dr Cornwell is off duty for the foreseeable future. Ensign Tilly's experiments last night have left us with a problem." 

Tilly, standing at the back, bit her lip. 

Gabriel explained the issue briefly, eliding details like _She thought she was dead_ and _There's a good chance the woman who belongs here died in her place_. 

"How interesting," said Commander Losa when he finished. Her tusks were inlaid with metal filigree, a common fashion among Tellarite women. They flashed as she smiled. "I've always been fascinated by alternate universes. What's the human concept? The evil twin?"

"Yeah," said Kat, "that's me." 

"So," said Gabriel, "Ensign Tilly. Can you undo this?"

She stepped forward. "The short version, Captain?"

"Please," he said.

"Maybe?" 

"And the longer version?"

"How's your multidimensional quantum physics?"

"Non-existent." 

"Oh." 

"Dumb it down, Ensign," said Kat.

The longer-yet-dumbed-down version mostly went over Kat's head, but the gist of it was that Tilly had several theories for reaching through the subtle subspace anomalies in Xahean space to return Kat to her own timeline. But most were dependent on a similar state of affairs on Kat's existing side: just as she and her counterpart had occupied -- apparently -- the same space at the same time, reciprocity would be needed to send her back.

When Tilly had finished, Gabriel said, "What if you wanted to send her back to the moment she left?"

"That," said Tilly, "is a whole new challenge." 

"Good. Get to work. Fix this mess." 

Tilly stepped forward. "Captain, I'm so, _so_ sorry--"

"Good. Go." 

When she had left, and everyone else had been dismissed, Kat said, "Tilly needs a mentor, not a drill sergeant." 

"She screwed up."

"It was a freak accident." Kat realised she was reaching for Gabriel's hand, and crossed her arms instead. "You're scared--"

"Don't tell me how I feel." 

"Don't take your feelings out on Tilly." 

Gabriel looked at her for a long moment. Then dropped his eyes to his desk. 

"She's smart," he said. "But unpolished. People find her off-putting. Her nervousness makes them nervous. She's having a hard time fitting in."

"When did she transfer from _Discovery_?"

"Transfer? No, _Discovery_ knocked her back. It was her first preference for her cadet cruise assignment. Captain Burnham … well. Had the same reaction everyone does." 

"Huh." Kat leaned against the desk. "You'd think growing up on Vulcan would give her more sympathy for a kid who stands out." 

"Vulcan?" Gabriel frowned. "I'm pretty sure Burnham grew up on some science outpost in the middle of nowhere."

"Huh." 

"What are you thinking?"

"That, if I understood Tilly, it'll help if we can narrow down the points of difference between our two timelines. Something changed -- some single event which has caused ripples. I became a trauma surgeon. Michael's parents weren't killed. Something small -- this timeline isn't radically different from mine, but each change triggers another." 

Like on Prior's World, where Dr Cornwell had strongly recommended against her captain attempting to use the transporter during an ion storm. She was concerned about radiation exposure; he gave in to humour her. He didn't die a terrible death, alone in another world. 

"I'll work on that," she said. "Finding the difference."

"Good." Gabriel's hands twitched. Maybe he, too, was fighting the instinct to touch. "You don't believe you can go back."

She said, "I just don't think you'll get your wife back."

"I won't abandon a member of my crew."

"I know."

"You think I'm in denial?"

"I think you have a duty to try." Kat glanced at the comm system. "And so do I. Open a channel to Admiral Drake."

*

Erika Drake listened to Kat's account without interruption. When Kat had finished, she said, "This is quite a story, Doctor. Not the sort of report I usually get on a Tuesday morning."

"You think I'm having a breakdown, too, Admiral?"

"I wish it was that simple." Drake leaned forward. "Neither of you has clearance to know about Control's existence -- let alone the level of detail Dr Cornwell has just demonstrated. I have to conclude that this _is_ an alternate timeline scenario." Her gaze flicked to Gabriel. "I'm sorry, Captain."

"I'm not giving up hope yet, Admiral." 

"Fortunately, Doctor, events have unfolded differently here. Control was deactivated four months ago. The system couldn't -- maybe wouldn't -- acknowledge the ceasefire. Section 31 shut it down, and Starfleet's analysts are pulling its code apart as we speak. We have no plans to revive the program." 

"And--"

"The Federation Council is in the process of passing legislation that will ban all artificial intelligence with Control's level of sophistication. As for your 'red bursts' -- we've seen nothing." 

Kat exhaled. 

"Thank you, Erika," she said. 

Admiral Drake raised her eyebrows a fraction. 

"I don't believe Starfleet has a protocol in place for medical officers who claim to be admirals in another timeline," she said. "For the time being, I'd appreciate it if you conducted yourself in a manner befitting the chief medical officer of the _Buran_."

Kat swallowed her first reply, straightened her spine and said, "Yes, Admiral." 

"Thank you." Drake turned to Gabriel. "Captain, I understand you're in a difficult position, and I sympathise, but your priority right now is protecting Xahea from the Klingons. Our listening post in Sector 90 detected three of their new D7 class cruisers heading your way." 

Gabriel's lips were thin, but he said, "Understood, Admiral." 

"How are your negotiations with the Xaheans proceeding?"

"I've met with their queen. Her Serene Highness is sympathetic to our position, and she'd rather deal with the Federation than the Klingons, but she's opposed to any expansion of dilithium mining on her planet. Frankly, I think she'd close the existing mines if she could." 

"She's young. Naive." 

"She prioritises the wellbeing of her planet over wealth, Admiral." 

"As I said." 

"I'm meeting with her again after this patrol run."

"Good. Make the girl see reason." 

"Yes, Admiral." 

When the channel had closed, he said, "That could have gone better." 

"Erika's in a difficult place. She's seeing a bigger picture, she has to make pragmatic choices." 

"Like pressuring a teenage girl to hand over her planet's resources." 

"I would, if I had to. I wouldn't like it. But I wouldn't apologise, either." 

Gabriel's smile was twisted. "And here I married an idealist."

She hoped he didn't see how that stung. She just said, "Did you," and turned away. 

When she had control of her voice again, Kat said, "In my timeline, Me Hani Ika Hali Ka Po is an engineer in her own right. There are rumours--" Which was to say, Chris Pike had told her, in the calm before the storm -- "that she's found a way to recrystallise dilithium."

"If she shared it with us--"

"Dilithium becomes a renewable resource. Everybody wins." This time she did squeeze his arm. "Go command your ship. I'll work with Tilly. See if we can't find a way to fix this mess."

*

The _Buran_ 's engineers and scientists were running simulations and debating the finer points of quantum physics, but Kat found Tilly in the mess hall, staring blankly at a bowl of oatmeal. Her face was puffy; it might have been sleep deprivation, but Kat suspected she had been crying. 

She stood to attention when she saw Kat, then froze, clearly wondering if that was appropriate. 

"Sit down," said Kat. "Relax." She wasn't hungry, but she synthesised a muffin so she wouldn't simply be watching Tilly eat. "You need a hand figuring out where our timelines diverged?"

" _Yes_ ," said Tilly, "that will be helpful. Only," she picked up her spoon, aimed it at her oatmeal, then put it down again. "Um, Doct--" she hesitated. "Admiral?"

"Doctor's fine," Kat lied. If Tilly was older, more senior, she'd have invited her to use her first name. As it was -- there was no point in being petulant about her title, but something about this universe was constricting. She wasn't really a doctor anymore; she had worked hard to achieve flag rank. She had never wanted to be anyone's wife. _I didn't ask to be here. I was ready to die._

And the other Katrina Cornwell was dead. Gabriel didn't believe it yet, and that was fine, that was normal; he could have his denial for as long as it didn't impact the greater mission. But Kat had no hope for her. 

And if, somehow, she lived, what did _she_ think of Kat's life? 

"I'm sorry," Tilly was saying, and Kat wrenched her attention back to the matter at hand. "I f-- screwed up, I know."

"Maybe. As far as I can tell, the odds of this happening were astronomical." _And repeating it will be even harder._ "You wanted to poke subspace and see what happens. Instead, you went right through to another timeline. We plan, the universe laughs." 

"It's not just that." Tilly returned her gaze to her bowl. "I definitely have _ideas_ for fixing this. And if I had twenty years, unlimited resources and a really big staff, I think I could absolutely guarantee a result." She looked like she was about to start crying. "I don't know how to tell the captain that. He--"

"Understands that this was a freak accident. But if you've exaggerated the chances of fixing this--"

"That was not remotely my intent," said Tilly quickly. "I spent most of the night coming up with solutions. I guess I didn't think about the scale." She drew a shaky breath and, finally, took a bite of oatmeal. "I don't want to give the captain false hope." 

"Okay," said Kat. "We'll take today to work out the feasibility of your ideas."

"And if they're not feasible?"

"Then we all have to deal with that." 

"Okay. Thank you." 

"Here." She passed Tilly a PADD. "This is the make and model of the torpedo that went off as the transfer happened. I thought it might help." 

"It will, thank you!" Tilly scrolled through the data. "And you … were in the middle of the blast?"

Kat nodded. 

"How? That is -- I know it's a senior officer's duty to -- but you just stood there--"

"Until I blinked, and I was here." 

"And you want us to send you back to that?"

_Yes. No. Rewrite history. Let me live. I've had time for second thoughts and regrets. I never got to apologise to Sarah. I want my second chance. But not here._

The thoughts welled up out of -- not nowhere, of course they had been forming, but it was the first time she had consciously acknowledged them. 

"Of course," Kat said, and there was admiration in Tilly's face, and she despised herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So _for the record_ , I wrote the line about Chernobyl back in April, before the HBO miniseries aired and returned the disaster to the zeitgeist. But I read an interesting book about it last year, and it was in the back of my mind as I cheerfully gave Kat a ship named for a cosmonaut and a Ukranian first officer. 
> 
> Some of the headcanon here -- the name of Kat and Gabriel's daughter, Gabriel having two mothers, and, yes, Kat commanding the _Terry_ \-- has popped up in my other fic. I was like, "This is like my farewell to Kat, I can throw everything in!" (Then two more plot bunnies turned up, naturally.)
> 
> Gabriel's Routine, on the other hand, is stolen wholesale from Aristofranes, aka lorcaswhisky. How did he cope when he had two children under five? One dreads to wonder.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has commented so far! I really appreciate that comment culture is alive and well in Disco fandom, even though I've been slack about replying. (I'll try to do better! I promise!)

Kat's gloved fist hit the punching bag. It displayed a set of statistics about the force and speed of her punch; she ignored them and hit it again. And again. And again. 

When her hands started to hurt, despite the gloves, she switched to kicks. 

She didn't hear the doors open, or footsteps crossing the gym; the first sign she wasn't alone was Gabriel saying, "Whatever it did, I think it's sorry." 

She had to stop to catch her balance. And her breath. 

"You're good, though," he added, stepping forward and calling up the bag's stats. "Better than my Kat."

"I guessed," she said. "Muscle memory was fighting me." 

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

He reached for a pair of gloves. "Wanna spar?"

Kat paused.

"Okay," she said.

He wasn't prepared for her speed. Her uppercut took him by surprise and he reeled back, a smile flickering across his face.

"How are the Klingons?" she asked, feinting.

"Out there." He dodged the imaginary blow. "Losa wants to split them up, lure them into an ambush." 

"And?"

"Not enough intel about the D7's capabilities."

"They have superior firepower." Kat dodged his punch. "The _Buran_ is faster."

"Huh." 

For half a second he looked distracted, and she advanced. 

But she lacked the body strength she had built after her captivity -- Gabriel blocked her and pulled her into a hold she couldn't escape without actually hurting him. 

"Give up?" he asked.

"Depends. You still ticklish?"

He released her, leaning down with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. 

They sat on the edge of the sparring ring and shared her water bottle. 

"So," Gabriel said, "why are you angry?"

"Your crew look at me like some type of hero." She used his discarded hoodie to wipe the sweat off her face. "We're Starfleet. Sometimes, we have to make sacrifices. It's not … special." Kat pushed her hair out of her face. 

_Most of these people died the way I did. Only they were betrayed by their captain, and I had a choice._ She was a ghost, surrounded by ghosts, and the only difference was that she knew she was dead.

"You're angry because my crew respects you?"

"Because I don't know how to live up to that." _Except by dying, and I--_

She didn't want to die. But she pushed that thought away. She had made her choice, and it was still the right one.

Kat said, "Do you do this a lot? Spar with your Katrina?"

"She gets angry. Sometimes she needs someone to fight back."

"An angry idealist." She smiled. "I respect that." 

"On your cadet cruise," said Gabriel, "did your ship respond to the raid on the Jasper Colony?"

"No, we were just out of range. It was borderline, but the board of inquiry cleared Captain Varess'koth of negligence." Kat closed her eyes for a second. "She was there?"

"Her ship was just in range. The Klingons left thousands dead or dying, and all she could do was offer first aid and comfort." His jaw tightened. "We were fourth-year cadets, we thought we knew everything. We were kids." 

"Younger than Tilly," said Kat. 

"Yeah. Kat came back with a chip on her shoulder. Spent our last couple of months at the Academy getting into fights. Racking up demerits. Alienating people. She barely graduated, and didn't have many friends by then." 

"Except you?"

"No, I was sick of her, too. I just couldn't keep away from an argument."

Kat laughed.

"Anyway," he said, "med school helped."

"Trauma surgery. I get it." 

"Right," said Gabriel. "She gave her rage a purpose. It's always there, but she controls it. I … envy that." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. For the first time, Kat noticed a tattoo on his upper arm, half-covered by his sleeve: a Starfleet insignia. 

His voice was nearly inaudible as he said, "She's not coming back, is she?"

"Probably not," said Kat softly. "Ensign Tilly will tell you tomorrow that there's no reasonable prospect of retrieving your Kat."

He exhaled, his breath ragged.

Kat said, "Don't be mad at her. It's not her fault."

"I know." His teeth were clenched.

"But she thinks I can … go back." 

"To die?"

"It will be as if she -- your Katrina -- died suddenly. I thought, your family--"

"Yeah." He looked at her, and Kat couldn't read his expression at all. "That'll make it much easier for all of us." 

*

For the last two years, Kat's life had been war, captivity, more war, grief, then peace -- and the potential destruction of all sentient life in the galaxy.

She was so accustomed to exhaustion she had forgotten how to rest. She dozed for short periods, punctuated by vivid dreams which bordered on memories. Or flashbacks. 

She didn't think Gabriel was doing much better; she could hear him shifting on the couch, his breathing uneven. At one point she opened her eyes and found him sitting up, reading from a PADD and frowning. 

She pretended to be asleep when, just after 0400, he got up, changed into his running clothes in the bathroom, and slipped out. 

He returned ninety minutes later, red and sweaty. His knuckles were swollen, bruised and bleeding. 

"You didn't just go for a run, then," said Kat, nodding at his hands. She was half-dressed, white pants and tank top. Wearing someone else's skin. 

Gabriel marched into the bathroom, using his T-shirt to wipe the sweat off his face and reaching for a medkit. 

"You're not going back," he said.

"Excuse me?"

He was making a show of concentrating on the dermal regenerator. 

"I've had every scientist and engineer onboard working on this problem. This is a small ship, we don't have people to spare. It's impeding the mission. So it's time to face facts. My Kat's gone," he said. His voice was flat. Controlled. "If -- _if_ \-- Starfleet finds a way to send you back, you'll die, too. And for what?" He finished repairing the damage to his left hand. "You've had your moment. Made your sacrifice. You're done." 

"But I'm--"

"Meant to be dead, I know. You want to use the transporter, have your molecules scattered in space? Or is lethal injection okay?"

"I'm not suicidal."

"No." Gabriel looked up. "If Dr oOopho and I thought you wanted to hurt yourself, we'd have you in touch with Starfleet Psych by now." He returned his attention to the dermal regenerator, now in his left hand. "There's no cosmic balance to restore, Kat. The timelines don't depend on whether or not Katrina Cornwell is dead or alive. The universe doesn't care that much." 

"You do," said Kat. 

He paused for a second. Then resumed, saying, "I have dilithium to secure and three Klingon ships to deal with. I'll grieve later." 

He was angry. In pain. But Kat felt her own emotions stir, a slow-burning rage which wouldn't be wiped out by the catharsis of sparring. 

She crossed her arms and said, "What'll you tell your kids?" 

He faltered. "I haven't thought about that yet." 

Finished, Gabriel returned the dermal regenerator to the medkit and started washing the blood and torn skin from his hands. 

"That their mother died suddenly? Sure, that works." Kat tilted her head. In the mirror, she could see a cruel, thin smile on her lips. "That there's a stranger walking around in their mother's body? Gonna be harder." 

He hadn't thought of that angle. Of course he hadn't; it wasn't thirty-six hours since his wife's death, and she was still walking and talking.

God, she was tired. She didn't want _death_ , just -- quiet. _An eternity of non-existence, was that too much to ask?_

Gabriel was watching her in the mirror. Her face, she realised, was giving away far too much. 

She turned away, reaching for her jacket, then stopped. 

"I can't wear this," she said. "I can't stay in these quarters. I won't pretend to be her." 

She marched over to the synthesiser; she didn't have the authority to replicate an admiral's uniform, but she ordered a plain blue jumpsuit, devoid of any insignia. 

_Start fresh._

She didn't want to start fresh. She wanted her rank. Her authority. Her _identity_.

_Thought you were tired and ready to stop._

She wanted to live. To work. 

She turned back to Gabriel. 

"You know how we defeated the Klingons in my timeline?" she said. "I ordered _Discovery_ to plant a hydrobomb beneath the surface of Qo'noS. Would have rendered the planet uninhabitable within weeks." 

A muscle in Gabriel's cheek twitched. 

"I didn't like it," Kat continued. "I'm relieved _Discovery_ came up with a better option. But I still gave the order. And you know how much sleep I lost over it?" 

He looked like he didn't want to hear the answer.

She gave it to him anyway. "About two nights." She took a step towards him. "Then life went on. And I was the same person I'd always been. The only thing that changed was that I knew myself. That angry idealist who values life above all else? She's gone. You have me." 

He gave her a twisted smile. 

"It's funny," he said, although he didn't sound amused, "I don't know if I'm a good man. A good father, maybe. Try to be a good captain. Sometimes it's enough. But I was really, _really_ good at being Katrina's husband. You ever been married?"

Kat shook her head.

"It's hard work. Especially with two kids, two careers and a lot of time apart. But we put the effort in. And I _like_ my Kat. I trust her. You, I'm not so sure about." 

"What am I meant to say to that?"

"I don't know." Gabriel walked away, back into the bedroom, pulling a clean uniform from his wardrobe and laying it out on the bed. "What do we do? Do we separate? Divorce? I don't have a roadmap here. I need to complete the mission. Then I can think." 

Kat thought of Hugh Culber and Paul Stamets. It wasn't quite the same situation, but then, she wasn't a Terran imposter, either. However much she felt like -- what was the phrase Commander Losa had used? The evil twin. 

One thing she knew for certain: she didn't want to hurt Gabriel more than necessary. 

_It's a start. You have a new road. Make your choice. Walk it._

"Okay," she said. "Let's complete the mission. I have intelligence on Klingon ships and armaments that Starfleet probably doesn't have access to in this timeline. You want to take out three D7 cruisers? Let me help." 

*

Ensign Tilly managed to be, if not succinct, then to the point as she briefed the senior staff on her failure: using conventional technology and the resources at her disposal, she saw no feasible way to bring Dr Cornwell home. 

She bit her lip as she finished, and Kat could almost hear her resisting the urge to launch into the unconventional possibilities: time crystals, the mycelial network, holding hands and wishing really hard. 

Gabriel just said, "Thank you, Ensign. I appreciate your work, but I'm declaring an end to this diversion." His gaze passed from Tilly to Commander Losa, to Lieutenant Commanders Landry and Maddox, to Dr oOopho. "We've lost our chief medical officer. But we've gained a senior admiral in her place. It's not what I'd call a fair trade, but then," his lip curled, "I'm biased."

Landry started to say, "Captain…" but trailed off. 

"So," he said, looking Kat in the eye. "Admiral Cornwell. Brief us on the D7s." 

They were fierce ships, armed with disruptor cannons and phasers, as well as photon torpedos and magnetic pulses which could knock out a starship's systems and warp the hull. 

"Overkill," said Commander Losa.

"No," said Landry, examining the schematic Gabriel had shared, "just enough kill." 

"Their firepower makes them vulnerable," Kat said. "The _Buran_ is smaller, more agile, and much faster. Which means you can get in nice and close, and target their weak spots." She zoomed in to the place where the ship's long neck met the aft section. "In my timeline, Starfleet's intelligence suggests the construction was rushed as Chancellor L'Rell moved to consolidate her power over the Empire. Too many key systems intersect here. Shield generators, for example." 

"Target number one," said Landry. 

"Right. Aft is weapons control, the cloaking device and engineering, down in the belly here. That's target two. Then you can cut off the head, leaving them without a bridge, and overload their warp core at your leisure." 

"Leaving us with -- how many dead Klingons?" Dr oOopho asked. His gills twitched with barely-concealed disapproval. 

"The crew complement is approximately four hundred," said Kat. "Maybe more. Mainly engineers, but they will carry warriors who specialise in hand to hand combat. If they get our shields down, they _will_ send boarding parties."

As the false Lorca claimed happened to his _Buran_.

"We won't let that happen," said Landry. 

"Assuming we can get them to decloak," said Losa. 

"They'll have to decloak to fire on us, Commander," said Gabriel. 

"False bait, sir?"

"Why not? Ava," he turned to his chief engineer, "work your magic, we need to look like we've suffered a catastrophic systems failure. Easy prey, not worth the attention of more than one cruiser." 

"Aye, captain."

"Ensign Tilly, you'll liaise with engineering from the bridge."

Tilly's eyes widened. "Me, Captain?"

"Aren't you qualified?"

"Yeah, but--" She stopped, straightening. "Yes, Captain. Aye, Captain."

"Good. Dismissed." 

When Tilly was gone, Maddox said, "Is that wise, Captain? I've done what I can, but she lacks polish." 

"Then we'll polish her up." Gabriel pointed at Landry. "Ellen. Look after Tilly. Make sure she knows what's expected of a bridge officer." 

"Captain--"

"And be nice. I remember when _you_ were that green." 

"Didn't you want a puppy, Ellen?" said Losa, her tusks flashing. "Don't worry, Captain, I'll help Lieutenant Commander Landry." 

"Good. Anything else?"

"Yes," said Dr oOopho. "Captain, without Dr Cornwell, we're about to go into a combat situation with sickbay shorthanded. There are four qualified field medics on board. I would like to recruit one--"

"Don't bother," said Kat. "I can do it." 

Dr oOopho blinked.

"I trained in emergency and combat medicine as well as psychiatry. I may not practise anymore, but I certified as a field medic when the war started. And I think Captain Lorca would prefer to have me in sickbay, not confusing the chain of command on his bridge."

Gabriel gave a little _huff_.

"That's one awkward conversation avoided," he said, and pushed the wooden bowl across his desk. "Fortune cookie, Admiral?"

She had destroyed that bowl. For a second, her nose was filled with the smell of plasma and burned sugar. 

But Gabriel's senior officers were watching her. She plucked a cookie from the pile and snapped it open. 

"'Rivers need springs'?" she read. 

There was a sort of collective disappointed exhalation.

"They can't all be winners," said Gabriel. "Let's get to work."


	4. Chapter 4

Dr oOopho insisted on recertifying Kat before he let her see patients. He introduced her to the sickbay staff -- variously remote or over-familiar in their interactions with her -- and then she spent the next few hours buried in simulations and tests. 

She stopped paying attention to the passage of time. She stopped thinking about her death, her new life, everything she had left behind, and all the lives she was disrupting now. She stopped thinking about rank, about ego, about anything beyond physical injuries to humanoid bodies. 

It wasn't until Dr oOopho interrupted her to suggest lunch that she realised that hours had passed since she last ate, and she was hungry. 

In the mess hall, over a meal -- a bowl of plankton and roe for the doctor, shakshuka and steamed spinach for Kat -- oOopho said, "I've gone through your test scores, Katrina. I'm quite happy to certify you as a field medic." He tilted his head, gills quivering, and added, "I suppose I shouldn't address an admiral by her given name." 

"It's fine. You knew my -- my--"

"Other self?"

"I feel like I'm stealing her life," Kat said.

"That's certainly one way to look at it," said Dr oOopho evenly. He sipped his water, shuddered, and added more salt. "Did the replicators in your timeline produce this terrible taste?"

"On the _Buran_? Yeah, they did." 

"Of all the universal constants." 

"In some ways, it's the similarities that are hard," Kat said. "The way the air smells. The soap in her bathroom. Letters from her daughter." 

"But not her son?"

"I only had one child."

"Fascinating." 

"Do you have kids?"

"Seventeen," oOopho said. "My partners and I were thinking of having more, but--" he waved his hand vaguely, "I shall need to find someone to take on my duties here while I'm pregnant."

Another family affected by her presence. She was like a stone dropped in a pond, causing ripples that altered the lives of strangers.

Her face must have been too open, because the doctor touched her arm and said, "It's not your fault. I hadn't yet discussed the matter with Dr Cornwell. We'll make arrangements." He swallowed some roe and added, "I suppose you wouldn't care to return to medicine." 

"That's not my life anymore." 

"Your old life is over." 

"I'm aware," said Kat.

"I apologise. That was tactless." 

"Accepted." Kat concentrated on her food for a few minutes. When the silence had stretched as far as it would go, she said, "When I left medicine, I thought of it as prevention. If I was the one making the decisions, some level of trauma could be avoided." 

"It would be interesting," said oOopho, "to seek out those affected by your decisions in your own timeline, to see how their lives fared here. A rare opportunity to examine the path not taken." 

"And what about the lives saved by my other self? What about the people she won't go on to save now?" She pushed a piece of egg around her plate. "I can't live up to that." 

Dr oOopho's gills flicked. "You've been speaking to Captain Lorca," he said, then stopped, looking reluctant.

"Go on," said Kat. 

"It's understandable that he would idealise his spouse. I myself have a very high opinion of my partners. I wouldn't carry their children if I didn't consider them remarkable people. But I'm hardly an unbiased source." 

"Okay," said Kat, reaching for her water. "What's your unbiased opinion of Dr Cornwell?"

"She _was_ a remarkable person," he said. "She was dedicated to her patients. She went to great lengths to protect those in her care."

"But?"

"Medicine requires a level of detachment. Captain Lorca never saw Katrina in a triage situation -- she took no joy in it, but she was a pragmatist. And even with all our technology, surgery still inflicts a level of violence against the patient. Once, during the war, the ship's systems were entirely disabled. Dr Cornwell kept an ancient surgical kit in her office. She sterilised a scalpel and _cut Lieutenant Commander Landry open_ to remove pieces of shrapnel from her torso."

"My God." 

"It's curious. She undertook that surgery with much the same attitude you told us how best to kill four hundred Klingons." oOopho put his chopsticks down. "I can't say I sympathise with your attitude. But perhaps you and she have more in common than you realised." 

He was about to say something else, when the ship rocked and a klaxon blared. 

"Red alert. All hands, report to battlestations."

Through the window, Kat saw something flicker: a long hull, with low, proud wings. A D7 class cruiser.

Gabriel had engaged the Klingons.

*

The battle only lasted twenty minutes, but clean-up always took longer. Two serious casualties took up the bulk of the medical staff's time and attention, leaving Kat, a junior doctor and a single nurse to deal with the stream of minor injuries: concussions, contusions, fractures. 

By evening, they were down to the stragglers, the sheepish officers muttering that they thought it was just a bump, but it's been a few hours and not getting better? 

Kat treated their symptoms and healed what she could, confirmed they were stable, and ensured they had no pain while they waited for Dr Lang and Nurse Surol. 

Dr oOopho dismissed her at 20:00 hours. Kat made her way back to the guest quarters Commander Losa had assigned her. She was tired, but not exhausted: her knees and back ached from the long hours of work, but this body was used to that.

She ate, she showered, she fell into bed.

She was still awake when her door chimed three hours later. 

Gabriel looked at the PADD in her hand and said, "Is it possible you didn't lose sleep over Qo'noS because you were already an insomniac?"

She didn't dignify that with an answer, so he held out one of the bottles he was holding.

"Drink?"

Kat stepped aside and let him in. 

The bottles held Ennan ale, cold and crisp. Kat claimed the armchair and watched Gabriel nurse his drink. 

Eventually, he said, "I hear you did well today."

"You, too." 

"They'll be ready for us, next time." He smiled into his untouched beer. "But we learned a few things, too. Ensign Tilly has some ideas for knocking out their engines. I think Ellen's ready to propose." 

"I told you. She's an asset." 

"Mm." He finally raised his bottle to his lips. "We did this in the war," he said when he had swallowed. "Kat and I. Drink and debrief after a battle." 

Kat put her bottle down. She should send him away. This … wasn't conducive to moving on. 

"Tonight … I read the damage report. Updated my log. Tried to figure out what to tell the kids about--" he waved his bottle at Kat. "Then I came here." 

"You should…" _Go. You should go._ "You should tell them the truth." 

"Is that what you'd do?"

"I wish I had." 

He leaned forward. "Your Gabriel Lorca--"

"Dead." 

"May I ask--"

"No." Kat stared at her hands. "It was complicated and ugly. I had it classified. The whole thing. It couldn't be allowed to get out, not during the war. Or after. But Sarah knew. That I knew. And that if she asked, I wouldn't tell her the truth." She drank, though her throat was almost too tight to swallow. "It's been tense, between us. And now I'm gone." 

She wondered if Sarah would ever forgive her. But it didn't matter; she'd never know. The Sarah of this timeline was a stranger.

Gabriel put his hand over hers. 

"Sorry." Kat pulled her hands away and wiped her eyes. "When I closed that blast door, I didn't expect to have time for regrets." 

"Would you do it again?"

"Of course," she said. 

*

They took out the second ship two days later, but only after a protracted battle which saw the _Buran_ playing cat-and-mouse with the Klingons in an asteroid belt, using the radiation put out by the system's star, a blue supergiant, to hide from Klingon sensors. 

This time there were two fatalities: an engineer killed when an EPS conduit overloaded in her face, and a science officer who took a piece of bulkhead through her head. The engineer was killed instantly; the scientist died an hour into brain surgery. 

Kat kept her attention on the other casualties, and resisted the urge to march onto the bridge and demand an update. 

When Gabriel turned up at her door, she was expecting him. 

"We've got to stop meeting like this," she said, taking the beer from his hand. 

They had been strictly professional in the last two days. They discussed strategy with Losa and Landry, and the political situation on Xahea, and Gabriel's Parrises squares team's prospects in the fleet-wide competition. Sometimes Kat felt like she was dealing with any captain under her authority. 

Then she'd catch a glimpse of her reflection, devoid of insignia, or she'd hear an echo of _her_ Gabriel in this one, and she would remember.

"I just finished notifying Xan and Kedron's families," he said now, sitting on her couch. "I guess it was too much to hope we'd get through this without losing anyone." 

"This is the hardest part, though." 

"Yeah." He leaned back. There were deep shadows under his eyes. "Tell me why you switched to command." 

Kat smiled into her drink. "People died. I got angry." 

"Go on."

"Did the Petros mining disaster happen in this timeline?"

"You were there?"

"I was the chief medical officer on the Petros IV orbital mining rig." 

Two hundred and twenty people, crammed into a station tethered to the inhospitable planet's surface, where mining drones were sent deep into the mineral-rich core. 

Forty-nine survived the station's crash landing. It was six weeks before Starfleet was able to rescue them. 

She said, "Do you know how many people have to die before the chain of command puts the CMO in charge?"

"I know there were only fifteen survivors," said Gabriel.

Kat looked up sharply. "In my timeline, there were thirty-five of us." 

"Well. They had you." He raised his beer in salute. "And you moved to command?"

"Yeah. I applied to the Command Training Program from my hospital bed." Kat leaned forward, curling her legs up beneath her. "I was … stagnant. Professionally. I was only on Petros in the first place because psychiatry had stopped being challenging. It was the only place that would take me as CMO. I figured, if nothing else, maybe I'd get a paper out of it." 

She sipped her beer. 

"We waited a month and a half for rescue. We didn't have enough food or medical supplies. The engineers cobbled together a life support system, but it was failing. We had no idea if our distress signal even worked. And it was all so _unnecessary_. The station's infrastructure hadn't been maintained. Repair cycles were extended too far. And all the decisions were being made by Starfleet desk jockeys who assumed running an eighty-year-old station built by civilian _capitalists_ would be exactly like dealing with a brand new Federation starbase."

Gabriel smiled. "I get the feeling you aren't the sort of admiral who flies a desk." 

"I like to get my hands dirty. I don't give orders I wouldn't follow myself."

"Even Qo'noS?"

"Yeah." 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. 

Then Gabriel said, "Did he die in the war? Your -- me?"

"The _Buran_ was lost with nearly all hands," said Kat. 

It was, technically, true.

"'Ugly and complicated' were the words you used." 

Shit. She had forgotten. 

"Captain Lorca was the only survivor." 

Gabriel shuddered. He got up, paced the length of her quarters, then retrieved his beer, took a long swallow and said, "I guess that answers the question, then. If I could look a photon torpedo in the face." 

He turned to stare out into space, lip curled in self-loathing.

_What the hell._ Prevarication only made it worse. Hadn't she learned that with Sarah?

Kat climbed to her feet and joined him at the window. 

"He wasn't -- the real Gabriel Lorca was transported to a parallel timeline, where we believe he was killed. His duplicate from that timeline took his place in mine, destroyed the _Buran_ with all hands, took command of the _USS Discovery_ and used its experimental propulsion system to return to his home, where he was executed. That was … almost a year ago." 

She had to stop to regain control of her voice. 

"I didn't know," she said when she could speak again. "He was my oldest friend, my best ally. My kid's dad. A captain under my authority. And I had no idea he was gone." She crossed her arms. "I let him down. And now I'm here, doing exactly what _he_ did." 

"You're not passing yourself off as my Katrina." Gabriel put his hand on her arm. 

"I know. But he--" She thought she had resolved this anger. "At every turn, he deceived us. His crew. Me. And all that time, my Gabriel was dead. Alone and far from home." 

"If that happened to me, I wouldn't stop fighting to get home. Maybe he's--"

"No," said Kat, her voice sharp. "It's a brutal place. An ugly mirror of our worst impulses." She stepped away from him. "A quick death. It's all I let myself hope for." 

_What if Gabriel's alive?_ had been one of her favourite ways to torture herself on sleepless nights after the war. She couldn't go back to that, not now.

"I see." 

"I know how it sounds." 

"I can see why you didn't tell Sarah." 

"Yeah. Can you imagine having that conversation? But if I'd known I'd be gone in another year--" Kat crossed her arms. "I've never had to second guess myself. I don't like it." 

He almost laughed.

"Is that funny?"

"My Katrina. She heard about self-doubt, but never tried it." 

"We're not the same." 

"No. I know." He towards her. "You're complicated. You've made harder choices." 

He had moved close enough that she could feel the heat of his body. Smell his skin. 

"You're not the Katrina I married, but I want to know you better." 

She should move away. 

Instead, she closed her eyes and, when Gabriel's lips found hers, she kissed him back. 

It was a light, tentative kiss, and she was surprised by the fierce wave of desire that flooded over her. 

_I missed you,_ she thought, and deepened the kiss, moving her hands to his shoulders--

With an effort, she broke the kiss, although she could not quite bring herself to step back. 

"Katrina--"

"Was your marriage monogamous?" she asked.

Grief flickered in Gabriel's eyes and a muscle in his cheek twitched before he said, "Yeah. Katrina held tight. You and your Gabriel?"

"Informal. Undefined." Kat wanted to put her arms around his waist and sag against him. She didn't. "I don't know if -- this isn't my body. And I'm not your wife. I don't want to make this worse." 

"I want you to be comfortable," Gabriel said, "but this situation is already screwed up. Sleeping together won't make it worse." 

"The confusion--"

"I'm a big boy." His smile nearly met his eyes. "I'm not easily confused." He kissed her on the forehead and stepped away. "You know where to find me." 

He left her alone. 

Kat put the half-full beer bottles in the recycler. She tried to read. She lay in bed for forty minutes, staring at the ceiling, then returned to the couch. 

Could she consent to sex in this body? Its original inhabitant was gone. Was her second life to be celibate? 

_At least give it more than a week before you jump into bed with Gabriel._

She wondered if it would be different in this timeline. 

If their positions were reversed, would _she_ object to the other Katrina using her body for sex? 

_Depends with whom._

Kat pictured the negotiation. _Hi, Katrina, it's Katrina. I'd like to use_ your _body to sleep with_ your _husband, and I get the impression you're a bit possessive, so I'm just checking that's okay._

_Gabriel_ didn't mind. Or so he thought, but he was also grieving, and sleep-deprived, and had the fate of a sector riding on his shoulders. 

Or was that an excuse? _Give_ him _some credit for knowing his own mind._

She was tired and lonely, and she wanted something for herself. Just for a night. 

Gabriel met her at the door of his quarters, stripped to shorts and T-shirt, a PADD in his hand. 

"I'm not your wife," said Kat, "and you're not my old friend. But maybe one night--?"

He took her hand, pulling her inside, and Kat closed her eyes as he drew her close.


	5. Chapter 5

The sex was--

Strange.

Not unpleasant. Kat reached orgasm with Gabriel's fingers inside her, his lips on her neck, and it was so damn long since she'd taken the time to sleep with anyone, she had forgotten how easy it was.

Maybe too easy, she thought, wrapping her legs around him. Her body didn't quite respond the way she expected -- but _he_ knew how to please her. 

And Gabriel was--

"Mine," she breathed, and he chuckled. 

"Am I like him?" he asked.

"Yes. Almost." 

This Gabriel Lorca was maybe less arrogant than the one she knew. But then, she had knocked his life off-course. 

She tightened her grip on his shoulders and closed her eyes, praying he wouldn't ask about--

"And the -- other one?"

"Don't," she said.

She didn't have to say more. She felt his arms tighten around her, his lips press against her cheek.

She thought she heard him whisper, "I'm sorry," but his voice was too soft to be certain. And she didn't want to ask.

After, she lay on her back, Gabriel by her side, their hands loosely entwined. 

She decided she was happy.

It wouldn't last, she knew. They had probably just made everything more complicated: his grieving process, her place in this timeline, the professional relationship they needed to maintain for this mission. 

But she couldn't remember the last time she had come so close to contentment. 

Gabriel traced the back of her hand with his thumb and said, "Maybe we could make it work like this. Just … being together when we can." He sounded like he was smiling. "We could date." 

_We have no future together,_ she thought. But she wanted -- a friend. A safety net. That familiar relationship.

"That sounds nice," she said instead.

"Not right away," he added. "I need to -- and the kids--"

Kat rolled onto her stomach. "I don't know what Starfleet has planned for me, but when this mission's done, I'll give you some space."

"For how long?"

"I don't know." She pushed her hair out of her face. "I mourned my Gabriel. Twice, in fact." She managed a smile. "The second time wasn't any easier." 

"Any tips?"

"No. You need to do this without me." 

"Yeah." He reached out, bringing her lips down to his. "But tonight--"

"Is its own thing," Kat whispered.

They were too tired to make love again, but it was enough to be able to touch Gabriel again, when she thought she had lost him--

_You did_ , she thought. And, _He's not the only one who needs space to figure this out._

Kat pushed that aside. She was going to take a few hours to enjoy this. The universe owed her that much, at least.

Gabriel kissed her shoulder, and she remembered something. 

"There's something I've been meaning to ask," she said, "and I'll do my best not to judge the answer." 

"Worrying start," he said. "Hit me." 

"I just … noticed something. A couple of days ago." Kat raised herself up on her elbow. 

In the starlight, she could see the tattoo on his right arm: a Starfleet insignia, a little blurred with time and age. Her hand went to the mark on her upper back, just below her right shoulder. A little finer than his, and slightly better preserved. 

"Gabriel," she said carefully, "is it possible we have matching tattoos?"

He laughed. 

"In our defence," he said, "we were very young." 

"That's no excuse!" 

"Freshly graduated. By the skin of our teeth, in your case. The whole galaxy was ours for the taking. And we had three days' leave before I left for my first posting and you started med school. We went to Luna for a quiet celebration--"

She could see where this was going. "We got drunk." 

" _Unbelievably_ drunk. And we saw the artist, she did it the old fashioned way, with real needles, and it seemed like a great way to commemorate--"

"And we didn't stop to think about the uniform code?"

"You're right," he said, becoming serious. "It was deeply irresponsible. And thoughtless. And--" his facade cracked, and he grinned, pulling her against him, "it fucking _hurt_." 

Despite herself, Kat giggled.

"We shouldn't have been served at all," she said. 

"Hey," he kissed her, "it was your idea--"

They both went still. 

"No," he said. "You weren't there." 

"Sorry," Kat whispered.

He just shook his head. 

She should have left then, but he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against him, and it was easy -- too easy -- to fall asleep. 

*

She woke up a few hours later, feeling -- rested? She had almost forgotten what that was like.

She rolled onto her back and stretched, from her toes to her fingertips, revelling in the movement of every muscle. 

_Look at that. I'm alive._

It felt good.

When she opened her eyes, she found Gabriel sitting up, frowning at the PADD in his hand. 

"Did I wake you up?" he asked.

"No. It's fine." 

Kat sat up, pressed a kiss into his shoulder, and read: 

_Sarah and Danny,_

_~~Your mom is~~ _

_~~There's been an~~ _

_~~This is difficult to~~ _

_Fuck_

And, just like that, Kat's pleasure in being alive, in being in bed with Gabriel, evaporated.

"I thought writing might be easier," he said. "I was wrong." He stared at the PADD for a moment, then wiped the draft. "Honesty, you said." 

"Yeah." 

Kat put her arms around him, resting her head on the back of his shoulder. 

"Listen," she said, "I've seen the worst person you can be. That's not _you_." She kissed his cheek. "You're a good man, Gabriel." 

His only response was to whisper her name as he kissed her. 

She stayed in bed until he left for his run. Then she got up, retrieved her clothes, and returned to her own quarters to shower and prepare for the day ahead.

*

Gabriel's routine ran like clockwork. On a normal day, his morning briefings began between five and fifteen seconds after the chronometer flipped to 07:00. 

At eight minutes past seven, junior officers waited to cover the stations held by senior staff, but there was no movement from the ready room. 

Commander Losa ran ops. Kat moved to her side, raising her eyebrows a fraction.

"He's speaking to his children," the commander said quietly. 

"How long?"

"Almost an hour." 

It was another fourteen minutes before Gabriel called them in. His lips were tight and he moved stiffly, like a man in pain, but there was no other outward sign of the strain he was under. 

"We've wasted enough time," he said without preamble. "If we don't take out the last Klingon ship, it'll come for us." 

Landry said, "Captain, Ensign Tilly has some ideas for penetrating their cloak." 

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "One ensign succeeds where the whole of Starfleet failed?"

"Lieutenant Commander Landry's overstating it a bit, Captain," said Tilly. "But I've noticed a handful of interesting radiation spikes when the D7s decloak, and I can recalibrate our sensors to look for them. It'll improve our chances."

"Good. Get it done. Losa, get the helm to set a course back to Xahea. Warp six. We've left the planet vulnerable." 

"You think the Klingons will attack Xahea directly?" Losa asked. 

"It's what I'd do." Gabriel looked around at his officers. "Losa, Landry, battle drills and simulations. Ava, Tilly, the sensors." He turned to Dr oOopho. "Doctor, I want the admiral on the bridge for this one. Conscript one of your other field medics." 

"Aye, Captain." 

Kat lingered after he dismissed them. Gabriel regarded her with a sardonic gleam in his eye. 

"'Easy', you said." 

"Easier," she corrected him. "And better than the alternative." She squeezed his arm. "I don't think there's an easy option at all." 

"No." He covered her hand with his own. 

"How'd they take it?"

"Confused. Sad. Sarah's angry." He looked at her. "Danny wants to meet you." 

Kat's heart faltered, and it took her a moment to realise that behind her reluctance lay fear. 

"Now?" she asked.

"I told him to give it time." 

"Good." She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder. "How are you?"

"I think," he said slowly, "that it's not going to seem real until this mission's over. I'm not looking forward to that." 

"Yeah. I know that feeling." 

If she had no rank, no duties, no wars to fight, did that mean she would finally have time to stop? To rest?

To think?

Kat shook her head. 

"Let's get back to work," she said.

*

The first combat simulation ended in the unceremonious destruction of the _Buran_.

They were interrupted halfway through the second by a hail from Starfleet Command.

"It's Admiral Drake," said the communications officer. "For, um, Doct-- Adm-- Katrina Cornwell." 

She took it in Gabriel's ready room.

"Katrina." The holographic Drake looked friendlier than at their last interaction. "I thought you'd want to know that Starfleet's forensic engineers have confirmed that Control is completely inert. Additionally, Lieutenant Spock is on active duty aboard the _Enterprise_ , and reports no childhood encounters with angelic beings of any hue." 

"And he doesn't have a foster sister, either," said Kat. 

"No," said Drake. "Nor did Captain Leland ever recruit Gabrielle Burnham as a civilian agent for Section 31." She spread her hands. "In this timeline, we're safe. Apart from the Klingons, the Orions, Tellarite separatists, the Romulans if they ever decide to show their faces--"

"The usual." 

"Exactly." Erika's smile was tired. "And how are you, Katrina?"

She hesitated before she said, "Shell shocked, I think. Adrift. I don't have a rank, my duties are nebulous -- I don't think this will seem real until I have a purpose here." 

"And Captain Lorca? This must be especially difficult for him." 

Drake used the same informal-yet-concerned tone as when she asked after Kat, but it was a serious question, a commanding officer inquiring after the well-being of a subordinate on whose shoulders rested a vital mission.

It was exactly what Kat would have done, and she answered honestly. 

"He's keeping it together for the sake of the mission," she said. "He won't start to deal with any of this properly until it's complete." 

"Good. He and his family will have everything they need." Erika raised her eyebrows. "As for you -- and your purpose -- that's currently a matter of some debate. Command is open to returning you to the rank of vice admiral, pending testing, psych profiles and other formalities. But there simply aren't any vacancies right now." 

"I see." 

"Some have suggested a consulting role, or teaching at the Academy, but if you're anything like Dr Cornwell--"

Kat was already shaking her head.

"Right," said Drake. "You know she turned down a chance to run Starfleet Medical?" 

"I read her logs, yeah." 

"Admiral Patar suggested you might be of service as an agent for Section 31--"

"Absolutely not." 

Erika's mouth twitched. 

"I told her it was a long shot. But we're taking you seriously, Katrina -- both your experience in the other timeline, and your place here."

"I appreciate that," said Kat. "A lot." 

The admiral moved to close the connection, but Kat was struck by impulse.

"Wait," she said. "Admiral -- I've heard one semi-official version of the war's end. I could have written it myself. So in this timeline, who gave the order to destroy Qo'noS?"

Drake stiffened. 

For a moment Kat was afraid that she had misjudged, that no such orders had been given, that she had just revealed something best kept secret. 

Then Erika said, "The suggestion came from Commodore Georgiou. But I gave the order." 

"I see." 

"I was grateful Captain Burnham found another way. And I suspect Philippa was secretly glad Michael relieved her of command, although she's not exactly returning my calls these days." Erika leaned forward a fraction. "When this is over," she said, "I'd love to talk to you about it."

Kat smiled. "Likewise." 

She wanted to say more, but before she could gather her thoughts, Gabriel sounded yellow alert.

"Go," Drake told Kat, and the connection closed.

"We've received a distress signal from Xahea," Gabriel told her when she emerged onto the bridge. "The Klingons have attacked their navy. We're proceeding at maximum warp." There was a bitter twist to his mouth as he added, "I hate being right." 

They were forty minutes away from Xahea. Long enough for a battle to be lost. 

"Tell me about the Xahean Navy," said Kat.

"Their ships are small, fast. Armed with disruptor cannons and photon torpedos, but their weapons are no match for the Klingons. Or the Federation, come to that. Their only advantages are speed and agility." Gabriel pulled up a holographic display for her. "Lieutenant Commander Landry has briefed them on a D7's weak spots. They just have to hold on until we arrive."

The _Buran_ was of the same vintage as the _Enterprise_. Leaning against a handrail, watching the crew prepare for battle, Kat could almost believe she was back there, that Chris Pike would appear in her peripheral vision.

_To them, I'm dead._

The thought kept taking her by surprise. That she was dead, but still living her life. Someone's life. 

She didn't even know if they had won. If Michael Burnham and _Discovery_ had preserved the galaxy. If Chris made it to the bridge before the torpedo went off in her face. 

She didn't even know if the blast door had held. Maybe the whole ship was lost, its crew reduced to atoms in space. Or scattered throughout the multiverse, inhabiting bodies not unlike the ones they had lost.

"Captain, we've finished upgrading the sensors." 

Tilly's update snapped Kat out of her reverie. She tightened her grip on the handrail, letting the sounds of the ship and the crew anchor her. 

Gabriel caught her eye.

"Beats the view from sickbay," he said.

And Kat couldn't argue. Despite the memories, it felt good to be close to the action. 

"I like to let captains run their own ships," she told him. "So your chain of command is secure." 

"Good." 

"And thanks," she added. "I know you didn't want me up here at first." 

It was the wrong thing to say. For an instant, Gabriel mask fell away, and she saw in his face all the emotions he was keeping under control: grief, rage, fear. Love. Resentment. 

Then the moment passed, and he had control again. He gave her a sardonic half-salute and turned to Tilly.

"What are we seeing, Ensign?"

"Not much at this distance, Captain." Tilly put the tactical display up on the viewscreen. "It'll improve as we get closer." 

The journey to Xahea felt like it lasted hours, not thirty-five minutes. Kat wasn't one for nail-biting, or fidgeting, or any outward sign of nerves. She gripped the handrail and listened to the reports from the bridge crew, and watched the shadows on the viewscreen become distinct.

Tilly had not exaggerated: her sensor refinements only gave them glimpses, a way of estimating where the cloaked cruiser might be. 

But it was enough: the Klingons would decloak, wipe out a handful of Xahean vessels, then vanish again, and every time, the _Buran_ 's crew got better at predicting their movements. 

"Okay," said Gabriel when they were close, "they're gonna see us any second now. We need to drop out of warp right beneath their belly and target them with everything we've got." 

"Aye, captain," said Landry. 

The helm officer nodded. 

"Yes, sir. Dropping out of warp in five, four, three--"

The world exploded.

Kat lost her grip on the handrail as the _Buran_ fell out of warp. She fell forward, the rail hitting her lower ribs, knocking the breath from her lungs.

No time to worry if anything was broken.

"Landry--" Gabriel started. 

"Firing torpedoes, Captain!"

But her shots went askew, landing on the Klingon ship's well-defended flank.

Gabriel had taken his chair. 

"Not good enough, Ellen," he said. "Losa, damage report."

"Shields down to seventy-three percent. Losing life support on decks seven and twelve."

"Ensign Tilly--"

"Lieutenant Commander Maddox is rerouting power, Captain."

"Ellen, lock phasers on the Klingons and fire at will. Helm, soon as she's done, give us some distance."

This, at least, went off without a hitch. Two of the tiny Xahean ships provided cover for the _Buran_ 's retreat. 

The communications officer said, "The Xaheans are hailing, Captain."

"Open a channel." 

It was the queen herself, commanding one of the twelve-person ships.

"Your highness," Gabriel started, "you shouldn't--"

"Defend my planet?"

"Risk yourself." 

The _Buran_ rocked as the shields absorbed another shot from the Klingons, although evasive maneuvers ensured they missed the worst of it.

The queen said, "I won't sit at home while Xaheans fight and die to defend our planet, Captain." 

Gabriel looked like he wanted to argue -- in fact, he had worn that precise expression back when Sarah announced she was trying out for her school's under-18ths Parrises squares team. But Po wasn't a rebellious teenager, but the leader of a sovereign world. And she had a point.

Finally he said, "The _Buran_ 's a big target. We'll keep the Klingons distracted, you nibble around the edges." 

"Like insects. Good luck, Captain." 

Gabriel gave her a Xahean salute and closed the channel.

"Lieutenant Commander Maddox has shields back up to seventy-six percent," Tilly reported.

"Better than nothing. Ellen, arm photon torpedoes. Target the cruiser's neck and belly."

"Targeting, Captain." 

"Fire." 

It was a partial success: the cruiser's evasion protected its neck, but left the belly vulnerable. 

"They're firing, Captain," Ellen reported.

"Evasive pattern alpha-six." 

Kat grabbed a PADD and moved forward to lean against the captain's chair. Quietly, she said, "May I?"

"Be my guest," said Gabriel.

"Thanks." She turned to the communications officer. "Open a secure channel to the Xahean ships. Tell them to concentrate fire on the cruiser's neck. I'm sending the precise location now." To Ellen, she added, "Target the belly and--"

She was interrupted by a squeal of static from the communications station. 

"The Klingons blocked the channel," the comms officer reported. "I don't know how much got through." 

"Ellen," said Gabriel, standing, "give it a shot anyway." 

"Firi--"

The magnetic pulse struck the _Buran_. Kat's ears were filled with the sound of metal twisting. Her stomach churned. 

"Status!" Gabriel was shouting over the noise. 

"Hull breaches on decks two through four," called Losa.

"And I'm reading buckling in the antimatter pods," added Tilly.

"Shields?" asked Kat.

"Forty-four percent."

The pulse had hit the Xahean ships, too. Kat watched as the lead ship split into pieces.

"Losa, tell me that wasn't the queen's ship," said Gabriel.

"It wasn't the--"

The ops station exploded, throwing Losa back into the handrail. Kat was by her side as she hit the floor, but it was too late: chest blown out, head split open, Losa was already gone. 

_Shit, shit, shit._

Kat climbed to her feet, claimed an empty station and pulled up operations systems. 

"Decks two, three and four have been evacuated," she reported. "Five casualties, two fatalities." 

Gabriel dragged his eyes away from the body of his first officer. 

"Reroute all available power to weapons and shields," he said. "Let's finish this. Ellen, target the Klingon bridge." 

"With pleasure, Captain." 

This cruiser was identical to the other two they had destroyed. But its captain and pilot were superior, giving the unwieldy cruiser a sinister grace as it conducted evasive maneuvers, achieving turns the big ship shouldn't have managed.

Nevertheless. Ellen Landry was good at her job. 

The D7's head -- its bridge -- exploded into a fireball. 

A couple of the bridge officers gave a muted cheer, silenced with a look from Gabriel.

"We're not done," he snarled. "How are the Klingons?"

"Regrouping," said Kat.

The cruiser -- what was left of it -- was coming about. 

"Evasive maneuvers," Gabriel ordered. 

"The helm's sluggish, Captain, I can't--"

Gabriel stabbed at the control screen on his chair. "All hands, brace for impact." 

_Is this it?_ Kat thought. _Again?_

Something sharp struck her forehead, and she felt warm blood dripping down her face. 

_Not important right now._

As the smoke cleared, she checked her screens.

"We've--" She choked on a lungful of smoke. "Shield generators are offline. We're sitting ducks."

"Captain." Tilly, her hair falling from its tight bun, was frantically going through engineering reports. "Captain, the antimatter pods are losing containment. We're six minutes away from a warp core breach." 

Gabriel exhaled slowly. His gaze moved from Tilly, to Landry, to Kat, and came to rest on Losa's body.

"Captain?" said Tilly.

"Okay," he said at last. "Ready the escape pods." 

"But the Klingons," Ellen started.

"Autopilot's offline," Tilly added.

Gabriel's face was bleak. "I'll deal with the Klingons." 

Kat said, "Gabriel."

He ignored her, relieving his helm officer and taking the conn while Tilly activated the bridge's three escape pods and Landry sounded evacuation alert.

"Gabriel," Kat said, her voice sharp this time. She pushed her hair, sticky with blood, out of her face and knelt beside him. "I'll do it." 

Gabriel looked at her. She couldn't read his expression at all as he rose from the chair. 

"Please," she said, straightening up. "I'm not scared. I have no place here." She looked up at him, setting her jaw. "Let me do this." 

"You're really determined to make that sacrifice." 

He sounded sad. A little amused. But she could see the temptation in his face. 

Kat said, "Your children shouldn't lose another parent today." 

"Captain." Ellen Landry had appeared at her side. "You should listen to her." 

"Ellen…" Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment, his hands curling around Kat's.

Then he opened his eyes, releasing her hands, and she already knew what he was going to say.

"I am the captain of the _Buran_. I won't let anyone else go down with my ship." 

"Gabriel," Kat whispered.

"Listen," he said, "tell my kids--" He hesitated. "No. They know." He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Then, after a moment's pause, pressed a light kiss against her lips. "Admiral." 

Kat opened her mouth, but she couldn't speak. 

To Ellen, he said, "Get her out of here." 

Landry's strong hands closed around Kat's shoulders, and she was gently pushed to the escape pod. 

"And, Kat," he called, as Tilly prepared to seal the hatch, "you'd better have a damn good life after this." 

She opened her mouth, but still, no words would come. 

Nor could she throw herself, sobbing and screaming, at the escape pod's window as it detached from the _Buran_ and fell away, Gabriel vanishing from sight as he took the helm. She could only press her hand against the transparent aluminium and watch, with a silent dignity befitting a Starfleet admiral, as the _Buran_ advanced on the shell of the Klingon cruiser. 

Tilly choked back a sob as the warp core breached. Kat's eyes watered, but she forced herself to keep watching as the _Buran_ and the Klingon cruiser exploded into fragments. 

Then she closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm sorry.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who stuck with me after the last chapter, and didn't yell at me for … you know.

She didn't go to her own funeral. 

The service was shared with Gabriel's, and she had already been to his memorial once. Gave the eulogy, in fact. 

Sarah -- _her_ Sarah -- had never forgiven her father for surviving the _Buran_. She had watched in silence while Kat spoke, hands tightly clasped in front of her, already practising the brittle smile that was all she could summon for well-wishers. 

God, Kat missed her.

Tasteless and inappropriate as it was, part of Kat wanted to attend the funerals. But memorials were for the living, not the dead. 

Anyway, she didn't think she would be welcome. It was she who had broken the news of their father's death to Sarah and Danny. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but she knew it was a mistake the second their holograms activated. 

Another error she was determined not to obsess over.

Instead, she spent the first few weeks after the _Buran_ 's loss in San Francisco, alternating endless debriefing about her timeline with a line-by-line explanation of the treaty she had negotiated with Queen Me Hani Ika Hali Ka Po to license her dilithium recrystallisation technology. And when she wasn't in meetings, she was seeing her new Starfleet-assigned therapist.

Her days were full. She was sleeping five or six hours a night, more than she had managed since the war started. When she wasn't working, she exercised, or sought out those _Buran_ 's crewmembers who hadn't yet been reassigned. And when she ran out of ways to fill her time, she turned to reports and histories, trying to find the places where this timeline diverged from hers.

"You're doing very well," Ravima told her one afternoon, "at avoiding introspection." 

"For a second, I thought you were going to give me a compliment." 

"I'm your therapist, not your friend." Ravima tilted her eyebrows. "What happens when you just … sit?"

"Nothing gets done." 

"You have very few duties right now." 

"Thanks for the reminder." 

Ravima waited. 

"I just start _thinking_ ," said Kat, getting up to pace. "I go around in circles."

"Tell me." 

She turned. "You're good at your job, you know that?"

"I do." Ravima sipped her water. "I specialise in uncooperative patients."

Stung, Kat said, "I see you twice a week!" 

"Yes, you're very good at _appearing_ to work on your problems, while actually avoiding them. It's remarkable, actually. Not at all in keeping with the other Katrina's psych profile. I don't think it fits yours, either." 

"Well," said Kat, "trauma will do that." 

"Of course. Coming close to death and escaping -- that alone will affect a person. And your situation is unprecedented."

"Not quite." Kat sat down heavily and poured herself some water. "An officer in my timeline was thought dead for over nine months. Instead, his consciousness was trapped in a layer of subspace. When he was released, he found himself in a brand new body." 

And how was Hugh doing? Was he even alive? 

"I told him that the only way to make a new road was to walk it. That feels … very glib, now." 

Ravima said, "What would you say to him now?"

"I don't know. And his situation was different. He wasn't -- stealing someone else's place." 

"Is that how you feel?"

"How else should I feel?" Kat heard the irritation creeping into her voice, but couldn't stop herself from adding, "I'm not entitled to be here." 

"No?" Ravima watched her. "Then who is?"

"Now who's being glib?"

*

She hated her apartment. It was just standard officer housing, close to transporter booths and coffee shops. She had stayed in identical barracks in her own universe. She had stayed in this very building. 

It was the similarity that nagged at her. When the debriefings and meetings finally dried up, her days became empty, and she found herself walking around her apartment, resenting its blandness. Her body had changed; it seemed unfair that the walls were always the same. 

Every morning, after her shower, she twisted to peer at the tattoo on her shoulder. Considered, then rejected, having it removed. She wasn't _that_ Katrina, but erasing the mark would erase another piece of her. She had been alive. Loved. Kat couldn't lose that. Couldn't see her forgotten.

She hoped _she_ hadn't been forgotten.

She got herself assigned to a hapless administrator, who filled her days with any tasks he could find. Landing party risk assessments. Preparing summaries of ship logs. Boring work, but she gave it her full attention and, with each job finished, asked for more.

One evening, at a loss for anything else to do, she changed into a civilian dress and beamed to Malaysia, stepping into a transporter booth on a cool San Francisco night and emerging to a warm, humid Kuala Lumpur day. 

This timeline's Philippa Georgiou had survived the Battle of the Binary Stars, but only just. Recovering from her injuries, she had been promoted to the rank of commodore and given the role of strategic consultant, taking command of the _Discovery_ in its mission against Qo'noS.

Now she was retired, living in a small bungalow on the outskirts of the city.

She met Kat at the front door and listened, a quizzical expression on her face, as Kat explained why she was there.

Finally she said, "Take your shoes off before you come in," and moved inside, leading Kat through to a small paved garden. 

Over glasses of sweet, milky iced tea, she said, "Tell me about the other Georgiou." 

"She's a tyrant. Absolutely ruthless in the destruction of her enemies and protection of her people." 

"Such as Michael?"

"I think she saw her as a replacement for the daughter she lost." 

"Huh." Philippa's gaze turned inward. "My relationship with Michael is … complicated. She relieved me of command, you know, on Qo'noS."

She sounded rather proud, and Kat said so.

"My judgement was faulty." 

"Emperor Georgiou wouldn't have admitted that." 

"No. But apparently conflict with Michael is consistent across universes." Philippa sipped her tea. "I think I find that reassuring. At least I get to reconcile with mine." She chuckled. "'Emperor' Georgiou. And Starfleet took her seriously?"

"Scared the hell out of me, but I tried not to let it show." 

Philippa's giggles were infectious.

But she was serious, later, when she said, "So. Qo'noS. From what you've said, you had even less excuse than Erika for giving the order." 

"I don't need excuses. It was a bad choice, but I stand by it." 

"Huh." 

"My principles versus billions of Federation lives. It felt like a fair trade. Needs of the many, and all that." 

"I admire the Vulcans," said Philippa, "but they justify too much with that phrase." 

"Maybe. All I know is that _my_ judgement was unimpaired." 

"After fifteen months of war? Your time as a PoW?" Philippa snorted. "No wonder your therapist worries about you." 

Kat … couldn't argue with that. 

Philippa raised her half-empty glass of tea in salute.

"To recovery," she said. 

When Kat finally prepared to leave, Philippa said, "Will you return to active duty?" 

"If they let me. I've been grounded for four months, now. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Not to mention psych clearance." 

"There are ways around that." There was a flash of the emperor in Philippa's brief smile. "But I don't recommend it. It didn't end well for me." 

Kat beamed back to San Francisco in the early hours of the Californian morning, the damp chill a shock after the warmth of Kuala Lumpur. In her apartment, she sent a message to her supervisor, letting him know she wouldn't be in that day. She suspected he'd find the news as a relief. 

Then she collapsed into bed and, despite the tea she had drunk with Philippa, fell asleep quickly. 

The sun was high when she woke up, and she had regrets. A whole day with nothing to do. _Half a day_ , she corrected herself, looking at the time.

Still. 

Hours to fill. 

She showered, put on the dress she had worn to Philippa's, and grabbed a PADD, loading it with one of the worthy novels she had always meant to read when she had time. 

The café near her building served a passable brunch: the sourdough was fresh and the eggs came from the owner's personal chickens. But Kat found she was craving the fungus protein and reconstituted carbohydrates of her childhood. And the worthy novel wasn't enough to keep her mind from wandering. She gave up two chapters in and, over a second cup of coffee, started looking up the people she had lost in the war. 

Her mother was dead here, too, but the half-brother killed on Iridin was alive. 

Should she contact him? They had barely been acquaintances in her first life; she had only once met the father they had in common. 

No, she decided. It was enough, for now, to know he was out there. If she wanted to burden relatives with her existence, well, she had two kids right here on Earth. Danny taught middle school in Connecticut and Sarah was between starship assignments, taking a short course in small arms training. 

Kat had seen her on the Academy grounds, but turned and walked away before Sarah could see her.

_Enough moping._

She was tired of San Francisco. On a whim, she transported to Pasadena Beach, in the Los Angeles Park. 

The beach was almost deserted, save for a couple of swimmers. Kat found a smooth slab of rock without too much sand, and sat to watch the waves.

She disliked the ocean. No, more than that. She feared it. Growing up on space stations, large bodies of open water were something she just read about, or experienced in simulations. She was a competent swimmer, but she had always trained in pools. But ocean survival training was compulsory for Starfleet cadets. 

Eighteen years old, and too proud to admit to her instructors that she was afraid, she had turned to Gabriel. Any spare hour they could steal, they spent at Pasadena Beach, where none of their fellow cadets would see them, and he had helped her get used to the ebb and flow of water that moved under the sky. They scuba dived in the reef which had once been a city, and though she would always prefer to live in space, she had learned to appreciate the way history was physically embedded in a planet's surface.

Kat realised she had tears in her eyes. She hadn't cried since she had woken up here. 

She blinked, and let them fall, but no more tears came. 

She stayed until the afternoon sun became uncomfortable. Then she beamed back to San Francisco and called Ravima's office to make a last-minute appointment.

She didn't bother changing before she went in. Ravima looked at her dress and mild sunburn, and said, "I see you took a day off."

"It felt like time." 

"How do you feel?"

"Better?" Kat asked.

Ravima raised her eyebrows.

"Okay, that's a lie," Kat said, "but I'm tired of drifting around, feeling sad. I'm stuck. And I'm sick of it." 

Ravima laughed. 

"Okay," she said. "Talk." 

"I have this recurring dream where I'm standing on the wrong side of the blast door as a photon torpedo detonates." Kat managed a wry smile. "I think it might be symbolic of something." 

"Mm. Subtle."

"Then I wake up, and I stretch, and I think, _I'm alive! I have a second chance!_ And for a few seconds, I feel…" She trailed off.

"Good?" Ravima asked.

"Like the whole universe is mine to play with. And then I remember." 

She couldn't just _sit_ and talk about this. Kat got up, started to pace, aware that Ravima was watching her, but unable to stop herself. 

"Everyone from my old life thinks I'm dead." She crossed her arms, holding herself tightly. "They've had a memorial. They're mourning. Soon, they'll move on. One day, I'll just be another name on a list of the fallen. And that's fine. Only…" 

Tears. Again. Just when she finally wanted to speak. 

Kat wiped her eyes and forced herself to continue. "I wish I could tell them I'm okay." 

"Your daughter?"

"Everyone. Sarah. My friends. The people I loved." She swallowed. "I hope they know how much they mean to me." 

Ravima leaned forward. "Would you do it again?" she asked. 

"Yes," said Kat. "But…"

"But?"

Kat returned to her seat. 

"Chris Pike likes to say that Starfleet is a promise," she said. "But sometimes, what you're promising is sacrifice. And I was okay with that. I made that choice when I joined Starfleet, and again when I moved to command." Kat stared at the veins on the back of her hands. "I could have found a way out of that room. Tried to rig the blast door from the outside. Ordered the internal shields dropped so I could beam out." 

"But you didn't."

"The risk of failure was too high. I couldn't gamble lives on the chance I _might_ make it out. I stand by my choice. But," Kat couldn't force another smile, "I didn't choose to end up here." 

"No." 

"And ever since, I've just been … passive." God, she wished she could just cry and get it over with. "I wish Gabriel had let me take his place. It would have been -- been--"

"Neater?"

Kat nodded. 

"I don't know how to live in this body," she admitted. "Can I have lovers? Cut her hair? I haven't even decorated my apartment." Her hands were clenched. "If Gabriel had made it -- I don't know. Would I have his blessing? At least his kids wouldn't be mourning _both_ parents." 

"Have you reached out to them?"

"No. They don't need that." 

"I'm not proposing you try to be their mother. But it's the elephant in the room, here, isn't it?" 

"I don't want to be--" 

She thought of Emperor Georgiou, and the push and pull between her and Michael Burnham. Manipulation. Need. Hope.

"--their problem," she finished. "If they want to speak to me, they know where to find me."


	7. Chapter 7

"I've been offered an assignment," Tilly said. "On the _Discovery_." 

_Look at that_ , Kat thought. _The pieces are falling into place._

"That's wonderful," she said. "The spore drive project?"

"Yeah." 

Too late, Kat noticed that Tilly didn't seem excited enough.

"I thought it was your first choice," she said.

"It was, but--" Tilly took a long breath, clearly gathering her thoughts. "I have trouble fitting in. I don't make friends easily. I talk too much, I invariably say the wrong thing, and this one time? I accidentally got our chief medical officer replaced with her duplicate from another timeline. I'm a square peg in a universe of round holes." She fidgeted with her empty espresso cup. "But I felt like I was finally figuring out my place on the _Buran_. Or a place was being made for me." She put the cup down and looked Kat in the eye. "That was you, wasn't it?"

"I know what you can achieve with the right type of support, Tilly." 

She blushed. "Thank you." 

"I also know you can find that support on _Discovery_."

"In your timeline."

"Why not here?"

"I have three days to decide," said Tilly. "I heard a rumour that you'll be given your own command." 

"I've been hearing that one since I landed on Earth. Don't bet your career on scuttlebutt, Tilly." 

"No. I know." She returned to fidgeting. "Hypothetically, would you recommend me for the Command Training Program?"

"Sure," said Kat. "You're not ready yet, but I think you'd do well." 

"Me, too." 

"And?"

"I asked _Discovery_ 's first officer the same thing. Commander Saru said that, given my record so far, he doesn't think I'd be an appropriate candidate." 

"You aren't. Yet." 

Tilly set her jaw. 

"I'll speak to Admiral Drake about this alleged command," said Kat. "You'll have an answer tomorrow." 

Kat stayed in the commissary after Tilly had left. She was assigned to mark cadet essays, and the view here was better than the tiny office she had been allocated.

Not that she could complain. She had work. She had a uniform, command gold, albeit without a rank insignia. And, two days earlier, Ravima declared her ready to transition back to regular duty.

So maybe there was something to this fresh rumour about a ship of her own. 

Captaincy. Was that a step backwards? Sideways? 

When would she stop competing with herself? 

Kat was staring blankly out the window when she saw a familiar face in the reflection, approaching her table. 

She turned.

This timeline's Sarah was identical to her own daughter. Dark hair. Blue eyes. A small scar in her left eyebrow, remnant of a sports injury when she was thirteen, preserved because she thought it made her look cool.

"May I sit?" she asked.

"Please," said Kat.

Sarah's tray held sweet tea and a bowl of spicy noodles. Comfort food. 

She picked up her chopsticks, stirred her noodles, then put them down and said, "You didn't call." 

"I didn't think you'd want to hear from me." 

"I didn't. Danny did."

"I'm sorry," said Kat. "How are you?"

"My parents are dead. Except that my mother is physically alive, and also a complete stranger. How do you think I feel?" She lifted some noodles to her mouth, chewed, swallowed and added, "It's getting easier." 

"I'm glad." 

"How are you?"

"It's … getting easier." 

"Good." 

Sarah turned her attention to her lunch. Kat went back to her marking. 

It was companionable. 

When she had finished eating, Sarah pushed her bowl away, stood up and said, "Call Danny." 

*

Instead, Kat sought out Admiral Drake. 

Erika's shuttle had landed two hours earlier. Kat ran her to ground in the main Command complex, surrounded by a gaggle of aides. She caught Kat's eye and dismissed them, leading Kat into her office.

"I get the feeling you want something," she said.

"A command," said Kat. "Ship, starbase, deep space outpost, I don't care. I'll captain a garbage scow if I have to." 

Erika looked amused. 

"You seem very sure of yourself," she said.

"I'm tired of busy work. Scuttlebutt has it there's a ship for me. If that's not true--"

"No," said Erika. "It's true. We were going to tell you next week, but apparently rumour got ahead of us." She walked over to her desk and called up a holographic display. "The _USS Eldering_. Walker class. Old, but the refit is nearly complete. She's purely a science ship. But for … less orthodox science. And a less orthodox crew." 

Kat watched the rotating hologram. It was a perfect little ship. And, she realised, she wanted it. Badly. 

"How unorthodox?" she asked. 

"Sometimes, there are ideas too compelling to ignore, yet … absurd. Fringe. In other instances, there might be political considerations at play." 

Kat watched Erika carefully as she said, "Weapons testing?"

"Possibly." 

"Black ops?"

"No," said Erika. "This is not a Section 31 operation. It has no ties with Starfleet Intelligence, or any of our weapons development divisions. We're talking about radical terraforming -- unorthodox propulsion systems. If not for the war, this is the sort of ship someone like Paul Stamets would call home. Nevertheless…" She was choosing her words carefully. "Given the potential nature of the mission, I think the _Eldering_ would suit a captain who has experience looking at the bigger picture. And who understands the gravity of her decisions."

"Someone who can say no."

"Or yes." Erika smiled sadly. "I think that's you."

"It is," said Kat. She had to stop herself from reaching out and touching it. "The crew--"

"We'll present you with a list of candidates for your first officer at the official briefing. If you have specific people in mind for other roles--"

"Sylvia Tilly. Ops." 

"Not engineering?"

"She's already a brilliant engineer. I need to turn her into an all-rounder." 

"Okay." Erika sounded doubtful, but she made a note. "Anyone else?"

Landry? oOopho? Maddox? 

"I'll start thinking." 

"Good." Erika looked -- not cautious. Careful. "Then there's the matter of your rank. I don't want it to come as a surprise. You'll be reinstated as a captain." 

She was surprised to realise that stung, just a little. 

"Okay," she said. 

"It's not _technically_ a demotion, but I know I'd be unhappy."

"It's fine," said Kat. 

It wasn't true, but it would be. Her first time in the chair, captaincy had been a stopping point on her path to the admiralty. This time around, she had nothing to prove. 

*

For once, Kat got her work squared away without demanding more. Armed with the _Eldering_ 's schematics and transfer paperwork for Ensign Tilly, already signed by Admiral Drake, she went home early. 

It was a good ship. An interesting mission. For the first time in weeks, she felt like she was moving forward.

She wished she had someone to celebrate with. 

Philippa? It was morning in Kuala Lumpur, but Kat wasn't sure they had that sort of relationship yet. Tilly? Landry? The gap in ranks made that problematic. 

Dr oOopho was almost an equal -- doctors always stood on the edge of the command structure -- but he was on his homeworld, pregnant with his next six children. Last they'd spoken, he was sleeping eighteen hours a day. Her news could keep.

In her old life, she'd have called Sarah. Here--

_What the hell._

She told the computer to place a call to Daniel Cornwell Lorca. 

It was strange, having a biological child who was a complete stranger. Not a common experience for human women. Informing him of his father's death, she had been distracted by the tilt of his eyebrows, the curl of his lips, the similarities to Gabriel. 

But mostly, he looked like himself: a stranger.

"Well," he said, staring at her. "This is weird." 

Feeling oddly shy, she said, "How are you?"

"Did Sarah tell you to call? I told her to leave you alone."

"I'm sorry," said Kat. "This was a bad idea."

"No. It's fine. I wanted to talk to you." Danny looked more like Gabriel when he frowned. "I didn't want to impose."

"Me, neither," said Kat. "I didn't think either of you would want to hear from me." 

"And I didn't think you'd want to be saddled with kids you don't know. Though," his smile was twisted, "it probably helps that we're fully grown adults. Even me. Whatever my sister tells you." 

Kat rested her chin on her hands, thinking of the various people who had flitted in and out of her mother's life while she was growing up. Was that how she seemed to Danny? Like a prospective stepparent?

She said, "Your father told me you're a teacher." 

_Good, next you can ask him how school's going._

"I teach music at Sato Middle School. And coach the softball team on weekends. I'm the family disappointment." 

"That's not the impression I got." 

"Lucky me." Danny was studying her. "Dad was right. You're different to Mom." 

"What did he say?"

"That it was like losing Mom, then finding out she has a twin sister. Physically identical, similar personalities, but slightly different. And it's true. Your expressions when we talk -- it's like I'm chatting to a polite stranger." 

Why did that sting? She had just been thinking almost the same thing.

She said, "Danny, I--"

He held up one hand. "My family call me Danny. I don't know what you are yet." 

"I'm sorry." 

"Me, too." He swallowed. "Dad thought you and he could be friends. So I was prepared to keep an open mind. Sarah, not so much. But Dad was dead by the end of the day." 

"Daniel," said Kat. "I'm so--"

"Don't." He stared into the distance. "Look, I can't do this over comm. Are you at home? Can I come over?"

"Aren't you on the east coast? It's late--"

"It's fine, I'm not sleeping much these days. I'll be there in twenty minutes." 

When he arrived, it was with a bottle of single malt scotch, three small pizzas, and Sarah.

"We found this in Mom and Dad's storage locker," he said, holding out the bottle. "We didn't know what to do with it."

"And I'm still not sure," said Sarah, setting down the pizza boxes on the coffee table and pushing one towards Kat. "Mushroom and pepperoni, no olives." 

"My favourite." 

"Mom's, too." Sarah sat on the couch, opened her pizza and accepted a glass of scotch from her brother. "Katrina -- it feels weird, but I can't call you anything else--"

"It's fine," said Kat.

"Okay. Good. Danny thinks we should get the awkward stuff out of the way."

"The pizza was Sarah's idea," he added. "She hasn't eaten yet." He held up his glass. "To Mom and Dad?"

"Don't," said Sarah. She unzipped her uniform jacket, pulled her knees up to her chest and said to Kat, "I heard you were with Dad when he--?"

"I was. He was--" _Too pigheaded to live_ \-- "very brave."

"The perfect Starfleet captain to the end," said Daniel. 

"It was his duty," Sarah said.

"Bullshit." He turned to Kat. "You knew him, in your timeline." With a sidelong glance at his sister, he added, "He said _your_ Sarah's an only child." 

With a quick smile, Sarah said, "How I envy her." 

"Yeah, and I have a minor existential crisis scheduled for whenever I've dealt with the rest of this crap." He returned his attention to Kat. "So what's he like? Your version of Dad?"

"Dead." 

He looked down.

"Figures," he said. "How? How'd _you_ die?"

"Yeah." Sarah pushed her pizza box aside and retrieved her drink. "As I understand it, whatever you were facing killed our mother instead. So. Tell us." 

Kat realised she didn't want to speak. 

She had told this story so many times. Why was this repetition any different? 

She picked up her glass and drained it. Shockingly disrespectful to a very good scotch, and she could almost hear Gabriel chiding her. 

Finally, she said, "An undetonated photon torpedo was embedded in the _Enterprise_ hull. I couldn't disarm it. But I could close the blast door and save the ship." Kat poured herself more scotch. "At least -- I hope I saved the ship." 

"And that's how Mom...?" Daniel asked.

Kat nodded.

"Do you think she was in pain?" 

Kat thought of that brief flash as the universes shifted, as her molecules came apart.

_Honesty. Try honesty this time._

"It was over quickly," she said.

Sarah's exhalation was more like a sob. Kat had to restrain herself from reaching for her. _She's a stranger_ she reminded herself, _as much as Daniel._

He was leaning over to squeeze his sister's arm. She gave him a weak smile. 

When she could speak again, Sarah said, "Thank you for telling us." 

"It's not comforting." 

"Yeah. But it's better to know, I think." 

_God, Sarah, I'm so sorry._

"So," said Daniel, "are we the most fucked-up family in the multiverse?"

"Is it good or bad that I can say we're not?" Kat asked.

"Wow. Okay." He laughed. "Jesus." 

"Is that what we are to you?" Sarah asked. "Family?"

"I … don't know," Kat admitted. "I like you. I want you in my life. But I don't want to take your mom's place." 

"Too late," said Sarah.

"I didn't--"

"Bit disingenuous, don't you think?" Daniel added. "Here you are. In her place." Before Kat could retort, he added, "So what _do_ you want?"

Kat took a sip of her stoch to put off having to answer. Then, realising she was finally hungry, she took a bit of her congealed, lukewarm pizza.

"I want to know you," she said at last. "You're not my kids, but you feel like family to me." She looked from Daniel to Sarah. "I read your mom's logs. She loved you both so much. She was proud of the adults you became. She liked you." 

Daniel stood up, turning to look out the window, but not before Kat saw his face crumple. 

"I tried to keep my distance," she said. "I don't want to force a relationship. If Gabriel had made it home--" She marvelled at how even her voice was -- "the original plan was for me to give you all space. But he didn't, and I feel responsible--"

"We're not children." Daniel didn't turn around. "We don't need a guardian." 

"No," said Sarah, "she feels responsible because Dad wouldn't let her take his place at the end." She looked at Kat. "I had dinner with Ellen Landry the other day. She told me what happened. I felt like I could face you. Knowing you tried." 

She put her hand over her lips to hide the trembling of her mouth, but tears spilled from her eyes when she blinked. 

Kat fought the urge to wrap her arms around Sarah. That wasn't their relationship, and maybe it never would be. 

She settled, instead, for squeezing Sarah's shoulder and getting up to find her tissues and some cold water.

She took her time about it, giving the siblings some space. When she returned, with a jug and three glasses, Daniel was sitting beside his sister, his arm around her shoulders. 

"He chose," he said when Kat sat down.

"It. Was--" Sarah accepted a tissue, blew her nose, and started again. "It was his duty. You know that." 

"Doesn't mean I like it." Daniel let go of Sarah and reached for his drink. "No one asked me what I wanted." 

"You sound like a child," said Sarah. "Did you expect Mom and Dad to stop serving after they had kids?" 

"You never resented it? Starbase boarding schools, summers with whichever grandmothers were free? Bedtime stories by subspace?" Daniel shook his head. "For once in his damn life, Dad could have put us ahead of his job." 

"Danny," said Sarah, and her flicked towards Kat. 

"I'm sorry," he said. "Am I making a scene in front of the stranger wearing my mom's body? Just let go for once, Sarah. You don't always have to be the perfect daughter." He took a swig of his nearly-untouched drink, and pulled a face. "Christ," he said to Kat. "How do you and Dad drink this?"

"Mixed or sipped, usually." Kat poured him some water. "If it counts for anything," she said, "both your parents admired the way you built your own path." 

He shrugged, although his ears were red. "I teach. I'm not exactly a pioneer. Mom hit the roof when I told her I wasn't going to apply to the Academy." 

"Yeah, I saw." It had been strange, reading log entries, seeing so clearly what her counterpart was missing. "She didn't have the imagination to see the obvious. That's what she said later." 

He didn't quite smile, but she felt some of his anger ease.

"As for my Sarah being an only child," Kat went on, "I had her alone. My Gabriel was a friend, not a partner. He was a great co-parent, but we never lived together. Frankly, it was hard work. I didn't even have time to consider a second child. And I had certain career ambitions. Your mom had a partner she lived with and different expectations for her career. She was excited to have a second child." 

"See?" Sarah nudged Daniel with her foot. "Not an afterthought. Or a mistake. Or the family failure." 

Daniel's smile was crooked. "I always said they needed to make up for the disappointment of getting you." 

"Please. There's a timeline out there where I'm an only child." 

Kat found that she was smiling.

"Listen," she said, "Gabriel started to give me a message for you both. Then he said you already knew." She looked from one to the other. "Do you know what he meant?"

They exchanged a look. 

"He does love us," said Sarah. "Or," she faltered, "did." 

"Yeah," said Daniel. "Yeah. Mom, too." 

"I know." 

They didn't stay long after that. Well before midnight, Kat was alone in her apartment, nursing the drink Sarah had abandoned and thinking of reheating her pizza.

As she left, Sarah had turned to Kat and said, "We could have lunch next week." 

And Kat had said, "I'd like that." 

Daniel had just given her a rueful smile and a peck on the cheek. 

But it was something. It felt like a beginning. The awkward parts, as Sarah said, were out of the way, and they could get on with deciding what type of relationships they wanted to build. 

Ravima would be proud. 

Kat finished the last of Sarah's drink, tidied up and went to bed. 

*

_To: Captain Katrina Cornwell  
From: Lieutenant Sarah Cornwell Lorca_

_Subject: Good luck._

_Body:_

_Let's have a meal next time we're in the same sector._

*

_To: Katrina Cornwell  
From: Daniel Cornwell Lorca_

_Subject: Do captains get first day jitters?_

_Body:_

_Teachers do, if you were wondering. Every year._

_I'd say don't do anything I wouldn't do, but I think it's a lost cause. Try not to get blown up again. It'll really set back my grieving process. I am using sarcasm to conceal my genuine concern._

_Go do some good for the universe. And visit once in a while._

_Danny_

*

_To: Captain Katrina Cornwell  
From: Commodore Philippa Georgiou (ret.)_

_Subject: Fresh starts_

_Body:_

_Good luck, Katrina. Make good choices._

_P_

*

Old though it was, the newly refitted _Eldering_ had all the trappings of a brand new starship: modern transporters, state-of-the-art duotronic circuitry, and -- she could almost picture Chris Pike's disgust -- high resolution holographic communications. But behind the trappings, she could see original bulkheads, the same red detailing as the _Enterprise_ and _Buran_.

"The regular crew complement is one hundred and twenty-two," Commander Wright told Kat as they made their way to the bridge, "but we can accommodate another thirty-seven people if the mission requires it. Visiting specialists, for example." 

Kat knew this, but Wright had overseen the refit. The _Eldering_ was still his baby, and she was content to let him talk. 

"When all systems are online, we'll be able to accommodate two hundred and sixteen simultaneous scientific missions. Not quite on the scale of the Crossfield class, but--"

"A hell of a lot more than a standard Walker class ship, I know." In the turbolift, Kat said, "Has Starfleet briefed you on my background?"

"They have. Begging your pardon, Captain, I thought it was a joke at first."

"I haven't seen the funny side yet." Although she was getting used to her new title. "I selected you as first officer because you know the ship -- but also because your previous commanders said you don't have time for bullshit." 

Wright looked embarrassed. 

"Bordering on insubordinate is the phrase I usually hear, Captain," he said. 

"Right. Well, I need a first officer who can give me a reality check if I'm operating on the wrong assumptions. You know what I mean?" 

"I do." 

"Just don't call me out on the bridge unless it's an emergency. Remember that, and we'll get on fine."

The turbolift doors opened. The bosun's whistle sounded.

"Captain on the bridge," Wright announced. 

Kat surveyed her bridge crew. Tilly stood at ops, shoulders stiff, cheeks pink. Ava Maddox was at the engineering station, half her attention caught by a display screen. 

The rest of her officers were new to her. A couple of names were familiar from her old life, but aside from the _Buran_ crew, she had deliberately selected people she didn't know. 

Ellen Landry had politely declined a position on the _Eldering_. Dr oOopho was still on paternity leave, but his response had been noncommittal. Kat suspected that, however much he liked her, she had too much blood on her hands for him to serve beneath her.

She respected that. But she wouldn't apologise for her choices.

"At ease," she told the crew, and pretended not to notice that Tilly started breathing again. "Commander Wright, shall we?"

Confirming an incoming captain's identity by DNA scan, Kat had noted in the final days of the war, did nothing at all to weed out the one imposter commanding a Federation starship. DNA was unchanged across timelines and universes. The _Eldering_ 's computer agreed that she was, indeed, Captain Katrina Cornwell, a former chief medical officer who had taken an unorthodox path to command, who was simultaneously dead and alive.

She understood Starfleet's urge to keep her background quiet, if not outright classified. Hadn't she made a similar call once? But she commanded a ship of certified geniuses, at least one of whom was notorious for talking too much. It was only a matter of time until the truth came out. 

She wondered if Commander Wright would be open to a small wager on how long it took. 

"Computer," said Wright, "transfer all command codes to Captain Cornwell." 

The computer said, "Transfer complete. _USS Eldering_ now under command of Captain Katrina Cornwell." 

"I relieve you, Commander," said Kat.

"I stand relieved." 

Kat turned to her crew. 

"The _Eldering_ has been in service for twenty-five years," she said. "She has a history. Her first crew made first contact with the Osirans. Her second commanding officer, Captain Trelz, negotiated the trade agreements that ensured the Epsilon colonies had enough food and medical supplies to thrive. In the sixth month of the Klingon war, the _Eldering_ led a convoy of refugee ships to safety. Captain Trelz gave her life to protect them, and the _Eldering_ took such heavy damage that, under normal circumstances, she'd have been decommissioned." 

She stepped forward, resting her hands on the back of her chair. 

"Instead, the _Eldering_ has a second chance at life. A fresh opportunity."

Tilly caught her eye, smiling. 

"So." She came around and took her place in the captain's chair. "Let's build something new." 

 

_end_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The _USS Eldering_ is named after Grace Eldering, who, along with Pearl Kendrick, developed the pertussis vaccine in the 1930s. What can I say? I was going through a vaccine history phase. 
> 
> Thank you for joining me on this journey into denial! I'm sorry (again) that Gabriel didn't make it out -- I wish I could say that was out of my hands, but no. I planned his death all along. (I'm a monster.) Feel free to imagine, if you like, that Tilly's ongoing experiments with Poking the Multiverse (technical term) gives Prime Gabriel a route out of the Terran Empire and into a universe that's almost home-like. (Sarah and Danny resign themselves to the fact that family gatherings will always be a bit weird.) 
> 
> (Because I continue to be a monster, if I wrote that fic -- and I'm tempted, but I also have other commitments -- Gabriel would bring Terran!Michael along with him. Awkwardness intensifies, not least because Tilly has to find out how to court morally ambiguous Terran ex-princess-captains. Flowers? Evil flowers?)


End file.
